


And the World, A Little Bit Darker

by Etched_in_Fire



Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [3]
Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Alcoholism, Drama, Family Drama, Gen, Pre-Lylat Wars, References to Child Abuse, Some dark themes, character exploration, pre-Star Wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: The day Andross was exiled to the cursed planet Venom, Andrew had thought that was the end-- he would never see his uncle again.  But that was not what fate had in mind.  As tensions begin to broil across the Lylat System, Andrew hears a rumor that his uncle is very much alive and well.
Series: Star Fox: Fate's Decree [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/51568
Comments: 13
Kudos: 18





	1. Whispers and Rumors

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place 3 years before the Lylat Wars.
> 
> Been struggling with life and writer's block so I thought maybe doing a different, smaller project for a bit would help. This is a sort of sequel to "It's All Just a Bad Dream", which I think is one of the first fics I ever posted on here 4 years ago now.
> 
> I usually don't list music inspos when I make my notes but I wanted to for this one! I vibed out to Mega Drive's 198XAD when I was working on this and slammed the entire thing out in a single sitting, which was wild. I think synthwave might be my new go-to for fic writing now.

The writing was on the wall in the years after Doctor Andross had been exiled to Venom-- a sentence that ought to have been a surefire execution but something that, years later, the Cornerians would realize was the gravest of mistakes.

As any rebellion did, it began in whispers. Dissonant voices clamoring in safe spaces-- pubs with flickering neon lights in the poor districts, alleyways where shadows crawled, and houses where only the trusted were invited. The first hint of rebellion blossomed in Macbeth. The businessmen there had never been keen on Corneria’s legislations, particularly the ones that tried to hamper their business to let Cornerian businesses flourish. It’s no surprise when Andross reached out to the disgruntled Macbethians that he soon found sympathizers. Those sympathizers soon reached out to their contacts on Eladard. And those contacts then passed the word on to their Katinan friends. And then from Katina, the word came to Corneria.

Andross was alive and he wanted his vengeance in the way of a new world order. One that saw the Cornerians toppled off of their lofty throne.

When Andrew heard about it, he didn’t believe it. And why would he? The idea of his uncle actually being alive all of these years later was something that was too big for reality. So he shunned the whispers in the first month out of self-preservation. But all eyes were on him. Even though he didn’t share his uncle’s surname, escaping under the shadow of Andross’s exile had been impossible. Everyone knew his relation to Andross and the harassment began soon after word had slipped to Corneria that Andross was looking to recruit into his budding army.

Andrew had barely been accepted into the Cornerian Flight Academy -- not because of a lack of skill but because of a lack of money. He had been interviewed several times before being admitted fully-- interviewed a few more times than the average person, in fact, which is something that always rested in the back of his mind. He didn’t need to wonder why. The nephew of the madman Andross trying to get his foot in the door at the Flight Academy? Maybe even going on to serve in the CDF? That raised eyebrows but Andrew reassured them that he really just wanted to learn engineering. Particularly engineering things that flew… which, of course, meant he had to learn how to fly himself. Which meant he had been shoved into flight lessons even though he would have rather been at the lab, making drones that could weasel their way into the vending machines to grab him an extra snack.

He had not been able to afford living on the campus so he took the subway back home. It was something Andrew supposed was shameful but he let that roll off of him like all their stares, all their comments about the type of person his uncle had been (no… no, Andrew reminded himself to not use the past tense anymore because somehow his uncle was still alive… somehow…). It had been hard for a while, after the trial. But then Andrew had learned how to cope with it. He learned how to build walls around himself, anger festering silently because to speak out would invite more attention and his mother had told him to never attract attention to himself. She lived fearfully and he lived numbly.

Trapped in a myriad of thoughts, Andrew clung onto one of the handrails as the subway sped down its rooted course. His golden eyes glazed over, staring at where some gum had been shoved on the side of one of the seats. He looked at it but did not really look at it, letting himself work through his confusion and anxiety. An MP3 player hung at his hip, clasped to his belt that kept his pants from slipping past his bony hips. The music was a pleasant instrumental-- synthwave, something that reminded him of his uncle, funnily enough. He had not been able to listen to those old albums in a while. Not until recently. Maybe it was a sign, maybe it wasn’t.

He was so lost in thought that he did not notice her approach. A light punch to his upper left arm jerked him back into reality, his eyes snapping wide. His natural instinct was to cringe and draw away but he dug the soles of his boots into the ground. He was glad he did-- this time it was not some stranger here to heckle him about his uncle’s crimes. It was a familiar face-- a simian, like him, though two heads shorter, black-furred, and carrying a knowing grin across her face.

“Eva,” Andrew said in mild surprise. She was a dropout, just a year or two ahead of him back in public school. Now she haunted Corneria City’s streets doing… whatever it was dropouts did. Andrew was never quite certain. 

“Heya Andy,” Eva said, grabbing onto the railing next to him and leaning into it with a cocky sway. “Fancy seein’ you here of all places.”

“I… take this train every day,” Andrew fumbled.

“Ohhh. Headed home for the day?” Eva asked. 

“Yep,” Andrew replied stoically. 

“I was meaning to drop by and see how you were doing. I guess it’s lucky I saw you here,” Eva said in that tone that made Andrew very aware that she had something on her mind. He wasn’t even sure if this was luck… or if she had spied him at the station and had followed him on board.

“Yeah?” Andrew asked.

Eva tossed a glance around the subway. The car was mostly empty-- just a few passengers scattered about in various places, all giving each other a wide berth. No eye contact at all. Typical for a day at the station. But the way Eva scrutinized each way was anything but typical. Her azure irises bore lethal glints, cutting into each stranger as if to dissect their motives. And then she put an arm gingerly around Andrew’s shoulder-- with some difficulty, too, being so much shorter. She pressed down, drawing Andrew in closer.

“I’m going to cut to the chase, Andy,” Eva began. “I really just wanted to hear your hot take on what’s been going on. Y’know… these rumors.”

“Of course,” Andrew replied with a scowl, shrugging off her arm. 

Eva’s smile flickered for a moment. “I guess you’ve been getting a lot of people wanting to know what you think. Or more importantly… what you plan to do.”

“Yeah, you’d be right about that,” Andrew answered brusquely, turning off the steady beat of the synthwave track still drumming in his ears. He sighed, resting his headphones around his slender neck. “And if you want my hot take, I guess you’re gonna have to remain disappointed.”

“Not wanting to share, huh?” Eva quirked a brow.

“More like I’d need one before I gave it out,” Andrew retorted and Eva looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah? Kinda surprising coming from you. Didn’t you used to adore him?” Eva asked.

“I…” Andrew began in a fluster, feeling his red cheeks redden even further. “It’s not that I used to… I still… Ugh, it’s complicated, okay?”

Eva’s smirk felt like a piece of shrapnel digging into those walls he had learned to build. It severed that numbness he had learned to adopt. He hated it. 

“I figured you’d be first aboard. You know there’s a group leaving tonight to go to Venom,” Eva said. “My big brother’s going with ‘em. I tried to get a spot on the ship but he told me and Charlie that we’d have to stick around here. Y’know, just in case things go south. Still got my Ma to care for.”

The sureness of her voice mixed with the information she gave hit him like a gust of winter-cold wind bursting through the door of a warm home. He felt himself lock onto the spot, rooted in shock. There were Cornerians leaving to go join Andross… tonight? There were people actually wanting to go with him? The thought made Andrew’s heart fly with hope. Hope… what a strange thing to have. 

“Tonight…?” Andrew questioned her softly.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eva asked him. “I thought you would. Oops.”

Her tone dropped slightly. She was doing this on purpose, Andrew realized. She was trying to goad something into happening… but what?

“Yeah, there’s a lot of people looking to go to Venom. Can’t believe that’s a thing, y’know, since Venom’s supposed to be haunted or whatever,” Eva said, her voice still low to not draw attention from the other passengers. “But when your uncle reached out… I guess it’s got people shaken. Making people think that anything is possible. Making people think that if someone can cheat death, then maybe they’re smart enough to shake things up top. Get some sense of balance in the world.”

There was a lot about that message that was appealing. Every day, it seemed the rich got richer and the poor got poorer. But the people up top didn’t do shit about it. Everyone was still expected to toe the line, even when the people who made the rules did not bother to play by the same set of rules. And sure, Andross was a murderer. His experiments had caused a section of Corneria City to get blown sky high but that, at the end of the day, was just rumors too. And conspiracy theorists had taken to pointing the finger at the Cornerian government, claiming the General had ordered those weapons created. Claiming their detonation was just something to pin on Andross. Something to get rid of him.

“The world can’t stay how it is. Y’know that, right?” Eva asked. “It’s like… there’s just a pressure that’s building. One day, the pressure will be too much. Or maybe… that day’s already here, huh? I don’t know. Something to think about.”

Andrew felt his words fall into nothingness. The subway began to slow, brakes screeching slightly as the transport drew to an eventual halt. As the doors opened, Eva began towards them, a hop in her step. She tossed a look over her shoulder back at Andrew, smiling.

“Y’know, Andy, that Academy uniform isn’t really your color,” the sly simian said with a wink as she stepped out the door.

When the subway carried on again a few minutes later, Andrew was left more pensive than before, his fingers clutching onto the railing with vivid emotion that he could not put words to. Instead, he flipped his MP3 player back on and kept listening, trying to find some answer in the wavering beats of synthwave. No matter how hard he tried, all he could think of were jagged, fragmented thoughts. Thoughts that didn’t fit together like puzzle pieces. They scraped against each other, causing friction, sparks. The way they did not seem to resolve in his mind drove him mad by the time his stop arrived.

The walk from the station to his home was painted by a cloudy sunset. A brisk, coldsnap had settled over Corneria City and Andrew nestled further into his uniform jacket, thinking about the much warmer one back in his coat closet. The cold spurred his steps faster, until the doorway of his home came into sight. They had lived in the same home all of his life. It was a ramshackle, old house-- full of needed repairs and leaks, but it was still home. It would always be home.

It became apparent to him at once that something had transpired while he was gone. Where glass ought to have sat on the door was a large tarp, taped over neatly. Fear spiking in his heart, the simian grabbed the door handle and flung it open, stepping inside and expecting to see a mess. 

Yet strangely enough, everything seemed to be in order. A waste bin nearby sat filled with glass and Andrew inspected it quickly. At the bottom was a large rock, no doubt the culprit of why the door’s glass had been shattered. He frowned and shook his head. It had been a few years since something like this had happened. Last time, it had been some bullies at his old school. They’d gotten away with a slap on the wrist, of course. Even the authorities could not really “fault” people for throwing things at the home of Andross’s family. Of course they had not said that aloud but Andrew had known it in his heart.

“Mom?” he called.

“In the kitchen, sweetie!” his mother hollered back.

He peeked down the hall towards the sound of her voice. The scent of casserole hit his nose and the radio sounded out an old timey tune from the kitchen. He sat his belongings onto the bed in his room, peeling off his uniform at once. Andrew threw on some casual clothes-- jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and some socks. He stumbled out of his room, sliding somewhat on the vinyl tile floor. A few framed photos passed him by on his way to the kitchen, not even sparing them a look. They had his uncle in them and Andrew was convinced that glancing once at them would have made him run out the door to track down Eva again. He silently thanked himself for not asking her where the would-be rebels were meeting tonight. That was inviting too much temptation… and Andrew still was trying to untangle his emotions.

He sauntered into the kitchen as his mother, Marlene, pulled the casserole out of the oven, setting it down next to some cornbread she had made. She turned to look at her son, a warm smile on her face. 

“Right in time for dinner. How was school today?” Marlene said cheerily, wiping her hands eagerly upon the apron tied over her floral dress. 

Andrew stifled a groan. The way she asked it made him feel like he was still a kid, not a graduated young man enrolled at the prestigious Flight Academy. But the way she smiled made him smile. He grabbed some oven mitts and helped her move the warm dishes over to their meager dining table. 

“It was fine. Same old, same old,” Andrew replied. “How was your day?”

“Oh, it was nice enough,” Marlene said pleasantly. 

“What happened to the door?” Andrew asked.

“Oh, you know, neighbor’s kids,” Marlene smiled. Andrew had severe doubts that was the case but he opted to not voice those thoughts.

They began dinner shortly after. Andrew found his appetite withering as he looked at the plate full of bread and casserole sitting in front of him. His mother’s cooking was always incredible, he knew, but a certain sense of guilt plagued him as he tried to eat. He cast a wary look out the window, where a deep darkness had fallen over the city. It was impossible to determine much about outside, even with the occasional street lamp. But as he looked out, he thought about Eva’s brother again. He thought about how they would even make it to Venom. He thought about the warmth in the household and how Venom probably didn’t have foods like hot casseroles… The more he thought about that, the more Andrew began to realize he was trying to talk himself into something. Or… maybe? He was trying to talk himself _out_ of something.

“You’re quieter than normal,” Marlene observed after blowing gently on a forkful of casserole. 

“I ran into Eva Galaxicos on the train,” Andrew began, words falling out before he could bar them back up. Marlene’s demeanor shifted, freezing like a headlight had fallen on her but she had forgotten her line. Andrew looked up, taking note of the fear in her ale brown eyes. She could not bear to look at him and when she looked away, he could see a sadness about her. One that was all too telling.

“You knew,” Andrew stated as the realization came over him. “There’s people going to Venom.”

Marlene prodded at her casserole again. 

“I did,” his mother said emotionlessly. 

“You didn’t say anything to me?” Andrew’s posture straightened, rising tall. His palms rested on the tabletop.

“What is there to say?” Marlene asked. “There are people who have made your uncle into a symbol. They are fanatics and no good will come from this.”

“Did you know he was alive all this time?” Andrew asked and Marlene’s brow furrowed.

“I did not,” she replied. “I’m not even sure if the person that claims to be him is _actually_ him. Not that it matters. They’ve decided it is him and they have decided he will lead them to a new world… whatever that means.”

“It has to be him, Mom,” Andrew said. “There’s no way anyone else could survive Venom. He’s the only one smart enough to figure out how.”

“Even if that is the case, that changes nothing,” Marlene replied with a huff. “He was put on that hell planet for a _reason_ , Andrew.”

“According to _some_ people!” Andrew snapped back.

“He killed a woman,” Marlene said angrily. “His own _friend_ , Andrew. And he tried to cover it up. He tried to get away with it. And you know what that led to? An entire district going up in flames.”

“It was an accident, Mom… He’d never do something like that,” Andrew began. “He’s your own brother, how could you think that of him?!”

“Sometimes, we’re faced with harsh realities, Andrew,” Marlene answered firmly. “And the reality we have to face is that your uncle lost his mind years ago. He’s a murderer-- cold-blooded and evil. And anyone who goes to follow him is just as bad.”

Andrew sighed, shaking his head. When he thought of his uncle, he could never think of him in that cold light. When he thought of his uncle, he thought of the way he used to blare music and move with a slight sway as he worked on his projects, moving to the beat. Humming along. His hands were covered in scars from work but they had always been gentle when they had rested atop Andrew’s head. His smile was always genuine, brimming with life. How could that possibly have been the smile of a murderer?

“Look at us. We have made a nice life after everything that’s happened,” Marlene continued, voice quivering slightly as she drew her gaze back up to her son. “You’re at the Academy now. I have a nice job at the dentist office. We’ve both done well for ourselves. We don’t need any of that back in our lives.” 

The way she said it made him feel uneasy. It made him reflect back on those last few years and ask himself if they were really that well off. Their home was still a mess. The neighborhood was not much better. People still whispered terrible things about them. They would never be able to live down what had happened before. Society would not allow that. He thought back to all of those interviews with the admissions office at the Flight Academy. He thought back to the way he had wanted to run when Eva had playfully socked him. He thought about the way he caught looks from people who knew who he was. Looks that tore into him, judging him without uttering a word. 

Eva’s words echoed in his mind.

_The world can’t stay how it is. Y’know that, right? It’s like… there’s just a pressure that’s building. One day, the pressure will be too much. Or maybe… that day’s already here, huh? I don’t know. Something to think about.”_

“Have we really?” Andrew asked Marlene quietly. 

Marlene folded her arms. “Andrew… tell me this isn’t going where I fear it is.”

“I don’t…” Andrew felt himself fumble his sentence. 

“Tell me you aren’t going to Venom,” Marlene said sharply.

“I don’t know,” Andrew admitted. “When I think about it, I…”

The next words were hard to confess but he forced them out anyways.

“I want to.”

His chest felt lighter at once. Some of that weight from before dissipated… and when he realized that, a strange, liberated sensation swelled in his heart. There was something that felt right about it. Something that had felt hidden away for all of these years. He had tried to ignore it, play the part, fulfill his role… but it had never felt right, like shoes that were just too big. But when Andrew permitted himself a fleeting dream of going to Venom, of rebelling against Corneria… being a part of something that could change the world…

It felt like a no-brainer.

Marlene sucked in a breath. “I won’t even have such thoughts entertained in this household, young man.”

“Why not?” Andrew asked, looking at her. “You think if we keep acting like good little Cornerian citizens, something will change? Maybe they’ll forget all about Uncle Andross and they’ll stop throwing rocks into our windows?”

“We don’t know--” Marlene stammared.

“Don’t,” Andrew snapped at her. “Don’t even try to make excuses for them. They don’t… they don’t deserve it.”

“We don’t get to decide who deserves what,” Marlene began.

“We do get to decide if we tolerate how people treat us,” Andrew said firmly.

“This isn’t about that, Andrew. This is about doing what’s right and what’s right is to have nothing to do with him,” Marlene protested. “I understand—what we experience sometimes… it’s bad. But it’s not something we can’t endure.”

“We shouldn’t _have_ to,” Andrew bristled. “And he… he should be here with us. None of that should have happened.”

“You’re talking madness,” Marlene shook her head.

“The Cornerian leadership is corrupt, Mom, you know that. What’s so crazy about wanting things to be better?” Andrew asked.

“There’s nothing crazy about that, it’s just…” Marlene looked away from him, tears brimming in her eyes. “You might think you understand the world but you’re still young. It’s not that simple. Those people going to Venom are no better than the people they’re trying to fight. It’s all just different shades of the same color.”

“You don’t know that,” Andrew disagreed, anger boiling in his chest.

“You seem to think I don’t know anything,” Marlene seethed at him. “Look, I know my brother is a murderer. He will murder millions more to see his revenge through. Because that is all this is, Andrew. _Revenge._ Don’t let him fool you.”

“I don’t care if he wants revenge!” Andrew yelled, rising from the table. “I just… I just care about making things better, Mom… and bringing him home. We could be a family again.”

“That can never happen,” Marlene said. “You know that.”

It was the tipping point for him then. That reassurance of “never”. It stung and it burned and it ate away at his last little bits of civility. Casserole still mostly untouched, Andrew rose from his chair. Marlene watched with twin tear trail wetting her face. He walked to the doorway, heaviness in the air and rage in his breath.

“I’ll make it happen.”

He swore it to her, a promise uttered in a dark voice that felt unfamiliar in some ways and familiar in others. Marlene covered her mouth to stifle a sob, rushing up to stop him.

“Andrew… please…” she pleaded. “Don’t do this. Don’t go.”

She grabbed his arm and when he looked back at her, he felt that anger in his chest falter. The way she cried into his chest made his feelings war with each other. Conviction met loyalty in combat. Guilt thrashed against his wants. He paused long enough to hold her for a moment in a hug. Her tears soaked through his shirt and Andrew truly did feel bad. How could he stand to leave her like this? Alone in Corneria City, having lost nearly everything…

And yet how could he stand to stay here, knowing he had a chance to make everything better? A chance to change their sad status quo…?

“Tell me you won’t… promise me…” Marlene sobbed.

“I…” Andrew felt his pulse loudly beating in his ears. “I won’t.”

It was said hollowly, a promise already broken in his heart.


	2. A Desperate Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part is getting started...

He didn’t say goodbye when he left the next day.

The way the morning shone through the white billowing curtains felt cold and a stillness was over their humble house. A stillness that weighed on him but he forced himself through it as he got ready. He wore his Flight Academy outfit but there were telltale signs that he had not been diligent about donning it. The collar was ruffled, his belt was done a rung too loose, and his pants were awkwardly scrunched up on one of the legs, where it ought to have seamlessly been shoved into his boot. His bag was draped over his shoulder—a little fuller than normal and that much was clear to the naked eye.

Marlene watched him go, a tearful silence about her so strong it felt as if it could manifest at any moment in front of her. Real enough to strike with her hands, which gripped tightly around a faded lilac rag she was using to wipe down the television screen. Andrew tossed one look at her as she busied herself cleaning things she had already cleaned. Anything to keep herself busy to not think about what was happening. Anything to keep her from looking at him.

He sighed and slipped out the door.

It was one subway ride to the nearest airport, which he entered not thirty minutes later with scarcely fifty credits to his name. A poor choice for a boy looking to cross the Lylat System but he figured it would all somehow happen anyways. Like it did in movies. Or video games. Or anime. He just had to find the right person to ferry him over to that cursed planet.

But as he wandered the spaceport, looking for freelance pilots that would even venture in Venom’s vicinity, the reality of his situation began to weigh like a hefty stack of bricks upon his shoulders. His golden eyes darted about the collection of grim-faced, grizzled pilots hanging about the local port bar, their leather jackets a mosaic of colorful patches that Andrew was sure meant all sorts of things. They didn’t so much as look his way.

Most of them were dogs-- fitting for Corneria and her “paradise” of a capital. Andrew wanted to say he did not trust them by virtue of that alone but he chided himself to not be so close-minded. Any of these guys could be his ticket back to his uncle. But, the simian cautioned himself to be casual acting. Not like a rebel. Like someone with genuine business on a cursed, deserted planet.

He sidled up to the bar with a very fake, cocksure demeanor, leaning against it with one elbow. Just like in the movies, because at this point, Andrew was convinced that would somehow give him the desired result. The bartender, a wiry terrier, looked him up and down, nose twitching beneath his thick mustache.

“I’ll take a—” Andrew began, eyes flitting anxiously to the menu resting overhead. “A General’s Salute.”

He wasn’t even sure what the hell was in that but it sounded patriotic enough to not mark him as a rebel. His mind balked at that for a sobering moment. Him! A rebel! Being sneaky! There was something strangely romantic and thrilling about it.

“You even old enough to drink, schoolboy?” the bartender asked, raising a single, skeptical brow at him.

“I…” Andrew stumbled over his excuse, feeling a warmth flush across his features.

“Strange. You did not ask the age of the two ladies that just stopped by,” a brusque voice commented from Andrew’s right.

The simian’s eyes followed the sound of that voice to its origin, a tomcat with slate-grey fur and a set of placid, wintery cyan irises. There were faint stripes in his coat, just a few shades darker grey atop his scalp and near his nape, where his underbelly coat emerged atop his collar in a bleak light grey. He passively sipped his drink, a beer of some sort, its rim lined with bubbly white foam. Donned in a simple shirt and a fluff-lined coat, he didn’t cut an extremely intimidating figure… but then Andrew caught a glimpse of his eyes and felt, somehow, the blood drain from his lanky body.

“Perhaps your generosity begins and ends only when the asker is an underage girl looking for a quick drink from an _easy_ source,” the cat continued, each word rolling with a foreign accent that Andrew definitely could not place. Without even glancing the simian’s way, the feline took another thoughtful drink.  
  
“I don’t think anyone asked your opinion, cat,” the bartender snapped.

“They did not. But why would I wait for their approval to give it?” the cat asked apathetically.  
  
The terrier loomed over the cat with dark, angered eyes. Those twin, light teal irises stared back emotionless. Andrew felt his heart lurch in fear that the bartender would strike the cat. The bartender sneered at the cat but went back towards the tap, mixing something together. Andrew nervously scooted a little closer to the cat, inspecting him carefully. There was an air about him the simian did not like. A coldness that felt like Cornerian wind in the heart of winter. But along with that coldness was something more. A trait that Andrew could not describe but felt perhaps a twinge of jealousy over. Perhaps it was an assertiveness that Andrew felt he sorely lacked at the moment?

Regardless, Andrew somehow knew in his heart he had found the (un)lucky lout that would take him to Venom. 

“I do enjoy my space,” the cat said, his vivid eyes flitting to his left at the monkey drawing closer. 

“Oh,” Andrew fumbled, feeling his veins become alight with deepening uncertainty.

The cat said nothing more to him, going back to drinking into his glass of beer with evident contemplation in his eyes. When the bartender grumpily slid Andrew his drink, the simian fervently hoped it would somehow be a magical potion that would give him the courage to ask the cat if he could take him someplace. Nervously, naïve Andrew took the glass in his hand, palm against its cool surface. He lifted it up to his mouth and silently prayed he was not about to make a total fool of himself.

Andrew’s hopes withered as soon as the putrid taste of the General’s Salute hit his tongue. It was somehow everything at once. Sour, bitter, fruity and also burning. It was like he had decided to ingest nearly every flavor at once and his face showed it in a cringe he could not erase. After he managed to swallow it down without choking, he chanced a look at his feline “friend”. If the stoic cat had noticed his floundering, then he did not show it.  
  
“So, uhhh…” the simian began, voice trailing.  
  
It was at that awkward moment that Andrew realized he truly had no idea how to go about approaching _anyone_ for what he wanted to do. When he tried to figure out how to put the words together, they fell apart before he could say them. It seemed stupid that it was so hard to ask a simple question. When he had left home that morning, everything had been so clear—go to the hanger, find someone to take him to Venom, maybe pay them a bit… and then find Andross. It had been so _simple_ so why was it so _difficult_ now?  
  
The silence that lingered was definitely in the awkward stage now but Andrew forced himself to play it off. He forced himself to summon up confidence.   
  
“You a pilot?” Andrew asked.  
  
“What gives you that impression?” the feline replied.  
  
“I…” Andrew frowned. Nothing about the cat really looked like a pilot, now that he was really looking at him. But Andrew realized he had asked and therefore, he was committed. So he quickly spouted out. “Just a lucky guess.”  
  
“Lucky indeed,” the cat mused. “I am a pilot.”  
  
Andrew’s heart leapt.  
  
“You have your own ship?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Are you for hire? I’m in need of a ride.”  
  
“That depends. Where are you wanting to go?”  
  
And then his heart fell.   
  
“Venom. I want to go to Venom.”  
  
The cat paused for a moment. He lifted his glass to his mouth, downing every last pale honey drop of beer. The glass clinked softly when he sat it back down, using the back of his jacket sleeve to wipe away what droplets lingered on his mouth. A few seconds past after he had swallowed down the last of his drink but the feline reminded silent. There was a glint in his expression that told of many things unspoken and they remained that way. His exhale came in a gradual sigh.  
  
“Ah. The Outreach. You will not find any pilot who will fly that far. Especially not to that planet,” the cat replied, rising from his chair. “You would have better luck enraging the General and getting yourself exiled there.”  
  
“I don’t have time for that!” Andrew exclaimed. “I need to go there as soon as possible. It’s really important!”  
  
“To who?” the cat asked, tossing some credits onto the bar. “That land is cursed and any fool who breathes its air doomed to perish. You will find only an early grave there.”  
  
“I have money!” Andrew exclaimed.  
  
The feline gave pause. “How much?”  
  
“Fifty credits!” Andrew said.  
  
“Barely enough for a ferry ride to Katina,” the cat responded disdainfully. “I will pass. Good day to you.”  
  
The cat pushed past him and Andrew watched him go with his hands in his pockets and tail wistfully flitting about. Frustration bubbled in his chest, mixing with fear. Was it really going to be that hard to find someone to take him to Venom? Surely not, Andrew reasoned with himself desperately. He could not bear to think of the only thing coming between him and his uncle being a few coward-hearted pilots. That would be too cruel of a fate. And so, the simian resolved himself to pressing on the search.   
  
To say that the next hour of searching was a failure would be an understatement. After managing to swallow down only a quarter of his General’s Salute, Andrew abandoned the bar after paying his short tab and began looking for any possible person that remotely resembled a pilot. He was subsequently laughed off, mocked, and rejected in what could only be described as a montage of humiliation.   
  
It was after the seventh or eighth rejection (frankly, Andrew had lost count) that the airport security seemed to take notice of him. He noticed them as they walked up—and how could he not? They were a pair of burly bulldogs, each bulging with so much muscle that it looked like their muscles had muscles of their own to flex. Andrew, having seen his fair share of dumpsters in his public school days, immediately flinched when they approached. He tried to quickly mask it with confidence but his reserves of that were nearly depleted by the time they accosted him.  
  
“Hey pal,” one of the officers said to him, smile twisting up on one side in a very unfriendly smile. “Heard you been harassing the pilots here. Gotta ask you to stop that.”  
  
The meaning of his words were eclipsed by his tone—aggressive and spoken with a bloodthirsty growl. The other guard rested his hands on his hips, fingers straying near a collapsible baton—a sure enough sign of trouble if Andrew had ever seen one. Backpedaling a few apprehensive steps, Andrew held up his hands.  
  
“I don’t want trouble,” the simian began. “Just wanna go…” _To Venom_ , said his brain but he knew saying that to these guys was nothing short of suicide. “… Someplace. I need a lift.”  
  
“I don’t think you got the memo,” the first officer said, bearing down a bit closer to Andrew’s face. “Beat it, kid. Anyone with eyes can see you’re just an Academy brat trying to run away from home. Get outta here or I’ll call your _mommy_ and make her pick up her precious boy in cuffs.”  
  
Years of brushing off remarks did not pay off for Andrew Oikonny. The way the officer’s words cut into him was precise, hitting every raw nerve imaginable. The simian gnashed his fangs together, incredulously staring at the set of brutes. Was this really where his dream of reuniting with his uncle ended? All of that fighting with his mother was for nothing? Would he really be forced to go back to her with his tail between his legs?   
  
“Shut up,” Andrew sneered at the guard, hands balled into enraged fists at his sides. He thought about swinging—he really did. Swinging a nice big fist into one of their already punched-in mugs. Oh, how glorious that would be. Too glorious to pass up, Andrew thought in his frothing frustration.  
  
But as his bony arm lifted, it was caught by a strong hand. The simian’s head jerked in to his right, remembering the other guard. He was systematically scooped up soon after that, his rage causing him to melt into a kicking and screaming lunatic as the two guards hoisted him up. They marched him ungracefully to the door and promptly tossed him out. He landed in a heap on the sidewalk, discarded no different than trash or a blacked out drunkard. And as he realized what had happened, Andrew lay on the sun-soaked concrete. Golden eyes staring at the distant Lylat beyond a layer of clouds, he breathed out and saw wisps of his breath trickle upward. Each wisp was short-lived, clawing for the heavens before disappearing. Andrew had never been one for poignant introspection, but he related to those wisps for a few mournful seconds.  
  
His head hurt from the fall, so did his shoulders. He knew he probably looked silly laying there. But he could not bring himself to get up.   
  
If only he had gone last night with Eva’s brother. Maybe they could have found room on their ship for Andross’s nephew. Or maybe he could have sent a message with them at least to bring another ship back for him. Him and some of the others who were no doubt waiting their turn to go join Andross’s side…  
  
“Ah, and here I thought we cats more prone than apes to napping in the sun,” came a familiar voice. Andrew tilted his chin to his chest, glancing down the length of his body at where the feline from before stood. The cat had his hands crossed over his chest and was leaning curiously over Andrew. “Keep this up and you will surely make it to Venom… but perhaps not in first class.”  
  
“At least I’ll get there,” Andrew said miserably.  
  
The cat wrinkled his nose at him. “At least stand so this is less awkward for the both of us.”  
  
Andrew raised a brow but did as the feline suggested. He forced himself back onto his feet, bits of his back and shoulder stinging as he did so. Gently, he touched where he had been injured and winced.   
  
“I have room on my ship and a need to go to the Outreach Ring suddenly,” the cat said. “My route takes me close to the cursed planet. Close enough for a brief stop.”  
  
“Really!?” Andrew asked, eyes snapping wide. “You’ll take me with you!?”  
  
“Yes,” the cat replied. “We leave at once. Come along.”  
  
He turned on his heel and Andrew scrambled after him, so elated that he had forgotten completely about being tossed out the front door. The cat said nothing as they re-entered the airport together, his pale cyan eyes set ahead of him and his hands comfortably resting in his pockets. Andrew had a million things he wanted to say to him but his buzzing train of thought was cut short immediately by the approach of both security guards—the very same two from before.  
  
“Hey!” one barked. “What’re you doing back here, punk!?”  
  
“He is with me,” the cat said calmly. “Do not interfere with my business transaction.”  
  
The two guards did not seem convinced.  
  
“You a pilot? Where’s your license?” one of the security officers demanded.  
  
The cat produced it with such speed that Andrew missed where he had even pulled it from. As the simian jerked back in surprise, the two bulldogs leaned in to inspect the card that the cat had produced, their eyes both squinting in absolute scrutiny. The cat remained placid, the hot breath of the guards rolling over the top of his grey head.  
  
“Silas Darkmoon of… _Animus_ , huh?” one of the dogs said with a smirk and scoff combo. “Don’t see many of your folk so far from home. Whatever. You’re free to take the kid and go. Just keep him outta trouble.”  
  
“Of course,” the cat said, tucking his license away carefully into his pocket.  
  
The two guards let them pass and Andrew found himself chasing after Silas down the busy hallway leading into the terminal. Silas kept a vigorous pace, his hands in his pockets and not even caring to make sure Andrew was following. The simian’s hurried steps were clumsy and he found himself clipping shoulders with a few other passerbys going the opposite direction.  
  
“You’re from Animus?” Andrew asked Silas. “Isn’t that outside of the Cornerian Empire?”  
  
“It is,” Silas replied. “But our monarchy has kept amiable terms with the General, so we are permitted to fly freely in Cornerian territory.” His mouth draws upward into a fleeting, bitter smirk. “As if mortal hands could ever claim the stars or the places between them.”  
  
“E-easy there,” Andrew’s voice dropped low and he cast a worried look around them. “That kind of talk in a place like this could get us into trouble.”  
  
If Silas cared about that, he did not show it. Andrew marveled at his apathy, wondering what it would be like to truly live so carefree. Able to express an opinion without society pressuring him to mold his ideas into their liking. What a liberating feeling that would be, the simian lamented. But as things were the way they were now, it was a reality that could not happen. Andross could make it happen, Andrew told himself silently. If there was anyone who could change the fabric of reality, it was his uncle. His uncle who had always known what to do. His uncle who had faced death many times, unflinching, commanding a presence of power.   
  
Andrew stewed on those memories as he and Silas took a tram to the next section of the airport. The crowded halls made it easy for any conversation to get lost amid the ambient noise but Andrew did not chance saying anything that could possibly be damning. He trailed along after Silas, who did not seem to be inclined to speak much either. They walked for some time past pleasant looking murals, fake plants near the walls, and a statue dedicated to those who had lost their lives in the Cornerian Civil War years ago, before Andrew had even been born.   
  
Silas’s ship was in a hanger designed for personal crafts, which was down a hall, down an escalator, and past another round of security. The guards there did not pay much mind to them, just looking at their scanners as the two passed through. Down a sterile white hall illuminated by bright lights lay another door and that was where the hanger was located.   
  
The ships that lay within were a hodge-podge of shapes and sizes. Some were decommissioned military vessels that had been sold out to freelancers and modified. Others seemed to be a Frankenstein of parts welded together, their figures so ridiculous that Andrew wondered how they could fly at all. Pilots and maintenance crewmen were scattered about, some working on repairs and others chatting idly. Andrew had never been in a hanger like this before and found himself openly staring at each ship that they walked by.   
  
“Here we are,” Silas announced in a soft tone, stopping in front of a cruiser of modest size. Andrew assumed it was Animusian in build—he had never quite seen anything built like it. Its wings were pressed into the sides of its long, rectangular hull. It was made with a dull blue-grey metal with sections painted faded azure. Andrew couldn’t imagine many people could fit into it at once but it seemed big enough for mild space exploration. Hopefully it was fueled up enough for the flight across the Lylat System. If he was honest, he did not care how he made to Andross—as long as he got there in one piece.   
  
The boarding ramp was already down and Silas began up it, adding over his shoulder. “It will be us and my two crewmen. We should have rations aplenty for the voyage. I trust you have no further business here in Corneria City?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Andrew said, fast enough to not give himself second thoughts. He forced himself not to look back down the long hanger as he ascended the ramp, fingers desperately clutching onto the strap of his bag.   
  
“Well then. Welcome aboard the Dullahan,” Silas replied as Andrew stepped off the ramp and into the vessel’s hull.  
  
The door slid shut behind him. The noise it made was soft but loud enough to signal to the simian that he had sealed his own fate by stepping aboard the ship. Andrew cast a glance over his shoulder at the metal door, feeling his breath caught in his lungs. He told himself not to think of his mother but he thought of her tense silence again. He thought of how she loved her floral dresses and how she always made the kitchen smell so good with her cooking. He thought of how strong she had been over the years… and he quietly pleaded she stayed strong for just a little bit longer. She would need to find her way without him there. But he knew she could do it.  
  
“This is not a big ship, as you no doubt can tell. But we have bunks in the back, just that way,” Silas directed him. “You may use one, of course. It will be several Cornerian days by the time we arrive to our destination. A washroom is just behind the bunks. Past that, do not enter. It is just machinery. The opposite way is the lounge and cockpit. I will be in the cockpit for the most part. You are free to join me or not, it is your choice.”  
  
Silas began down the narrow corridor, towards where he had indicated the cockpit was. Andrew felt compelled to follow him and so he did, his boots gently clinking against the metallic floor. He looked at the pipes that clung to the corners of the walls and to the ceilings, marveling at them quietly. This ship felt older than the ones he had been on before. He told himself not to judge it too harshly. As long as it flew him to Venom, that was all that mattered, right?  
  
They arrived at the cockpit shortly. It was big enough to seat four—a pilot, a co-pilot and then two passengers. Andrew loitered in the hall, peeking inside at the dashboard with its myriad of nobs, buttons, and switches. Inside, he could see a broad-shouldered puma sitting at the co-pilot’s seat. He turned to look at Silas but his eyes immediately zeroed in on Andrew—their hue fiery orange but somehow cold as ice. Next to the puma, seated in the pilot’s chair, was a grey tabby kitten, sporting a mess of black fringe and wide mismatched eyes. Andrew guessed he could not have been much older than six or seven years old.  
  
Silas rattled off something rapidly in another language and the puma turned to look at him. He nodded once and Silas continued on in the other language. Andrew’s nervousness grew with each passing second the two felines conversed. What were they saying? Was Silas really going to take him to Venom? Or had this been a trick all along? The simian thought about the door sliding shut again, its closure feeling somehow even more permanent than before.   
  
“We will go to Venom first to drop you off,” Silas said in common Lylatian, looking to Andrew and breaking off his conversation with the puma. “But I will admit, I do not understand what you intend to do there. The air is toxic. It will kill you within minutes.”  
  
‘My uncle is there’ almost slipped from his mouth but the simian cautioned himself to not give too much away. Even if Silas had been helpful thus far, Andrew did not want to chance provoking him by bringing up Andross’s name. Who knew what this cat’s thoughts were about Andross and what he had allegedly done all of those years ago?  
  
“There’s someone I need to find there,” Andrew said evasively. “We should get a signal from them before we land. I can try to broadcast something out when we get closer. They’ll tell us where to go.” He hoped, at least.  
  
Silas did not look convinced. “They say Venom is Hell. That many who go there do not return. And you claim there is… someone there you need to find? I fear you will only find a corpse and then become one yourself.”  
  
“Does it matter!?” Andrew exclaimed. “I just… I just need to get there.” Was this feline _really_ going to back out now?  
  
“Silas,” the puma said, voice rumbling like a distant boom of thunder. “We have those oxygen masks from the business on Melqua.”  
  
“That we do,” Silas nodded then looked to Andrew. “And I can spare you one. But I refuse to set foot on that cursed place. A planet so cruel that its true name has been struck from history is no place anyone has any business going to.”  
  
“Then why bother taking me?” Andrew asked, feeling his frustration leak out.  
  
“Because I am curious,” Silas answered simply. “And I pity you.”  
  
“Pity me?” Andrew asked in surprise.  
  
He supposed he ought to have felt more indignant than he did at that moment. But his relief at finding anyone at all that would take him to Venom superseded his pride. Whatever it took, he reminded himself for the thousandth time that day. He could worry about his pride later, after he had made it to Venom.  
  
“All repairs have been made,” the puma spoke up, still looking to Silas. “We are ready to embark at your will.”  
  
“Then let us be away. Lloyd, out of my chair,” Silas barked and the kitten slid out, looking dejected. It did not last long—his sadness was quickly replaced with curiosity towards Andrew. Silas glanced to Andrew, adding. “You may want to take a seat during takeoff.”  
  
Andrew plopped down into the seat behind the co-pilot, clutching his bag into his lap. The Dullahan’s engines brimmed to life with the touch of a button. From behind the tall puma, he could see him plugging in coordinates. Silas began checking in with the communication tower to see if they were cleared to fly out.  
  
It was happening. It was really happening. He was leaving Corneria. Possibly for years. The simian felt his heart beat faster and faster with every passing second, fingers squeezing into the fabric of his bag. His nails dug against the material, making a soft noise that was easily drowned out by the roar of the ship’s engines in the hanger.   
  
The door had shut behind him, he told himself. There was no way he could bail now. If he bailed now, there was no telling if he would ever have another chance again. That fear overpowered him, gluing him to that chair as a deep-rooted despair settled into his veins. ‘What am I doing?’ – the question played over and over again in his head, a fearful mantra as he clutched tighter and tighter to his bag.  
  
He thought of his mother, wondering if she would bother to wait for him before starting dinner. Would she even report him as missing if she knew where he was headed? What would she tell the Academy? That their fears had been realized? That the nephew of the feared Doctor Andross had turned on his homeland. That he meant to traverse across the Lylat System, to join a rebellion?  
  
His mother’s tears versus his own ambition.  
  
He was damned if he did. Damned if he didn’t. And so, Andrew did. Because he knew he would live life full of regret if he didn’t.  
  
“Heya Mister,” came a small voice to his left. Andrew glanced over to see Lloyd sitting next to him, his mismatched cyan and violet eyes beaming up at him. “You look kinda scared. Don’t worry—my daddy’s the best pilot in the world. He’s not gonna crash or nothin’.”  
  
As much as Andrew appreciated the child’s optimism, it felt irrelevant. But he managed up a flickering smile, still halfway preoccupied with his own inner war.  
  
“Yeah, yeah… not worried, just stomach hurts,” the simian lied quickly.  
  
“Oh, well, if you want, we got a potty in the back,” Lloyd offered helpfully.  
  
“Thanks,” Andrew said. “I’ll be okay, though.”  
  
They were cleared to depart before long. The hanger’s roof opened up, letting the cold winter light in. The Dullahan’s rise from the hanger floor was gradual, a smooth rise that Andrew barely noticed. He looked out the window as they cleared the hanger, hovering overhead for a few long seconds before the wings unfolded from either sides of the ship’s body. Silas aimed the Dullahan’s nose to the sky, gently thrusting it forward. The Dullahan accelerated, boosting upward towards the blue heavens and beyond.  
  
Andrew’s back pressed hard into the cushion of his chair, his golden eyes widely staring down at the world below. Corneria City fell below them rapidly as they ascended. Its white skyscrapers were soon lost under a layer of fluffy clouds and with it, everything that Andrew had ever known.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very uncertain if I wanted to add Silas, Lloyd, and the puma (who is named Cedric... he'll get a brief introduction next chapter) into this short story but I decided to go for it. Those three are probably my oldest Star Fox OCs and it's high time they made some form of appearance. This will still of course be an Andrew-centric story; I just needed a few more characters thrown into the cast to tell the story I would like to tell. And this sets up nicely for another fic I have in mind.
> 
> I'm probably going to make this 4 chapters instead of 3. It'll depend on how writing the next section goes and how the story flows.


	3. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cup noodles and bad memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to child abuse and alcoholism in following chapter, please be advised before reading.

As the Dullahan ascended into the darkness of space, Corneria became a spherical sapphire, aglow in a shallow splendor. Andrew glanced back at it as long as he could until it vanished from sight and then he bothered to settle into his chair. Trying desperately to tell himself to calm down, he glanced at the ceiling, a deep sigh billowing from his mouth. His limbs shook with nerves that were slowly starting to die away, giving in to a sickness that gurgled in his stomach. Its warm touch slithered up his nape and for a moment as they blasted through space, Andrew Oikonny thought he was going to puke. He clung a bit tighter to his bag, fumbled for a few seconds with the recline controls, then opted to go back towards the bunkbeds Silas had pointed out.  
  
Andrew selected a bottom bunk because he could not bring himself to climb the steps to the top one. He tossed his bag under the bed, which was embedded firmly into the ship’s wall. When he laid down, he expected to feel better. But all he felt was the same amount of bad, just horizontal. The simian rolled over, the cool of the pillow feeling nice against his fluffy white fur. It was not quite enough to make him feel great. He rolled over to face the wall, arching his torso into the fetal position.  
  
Laying this way in his Flight Academy outfit was uncomfortable but Andrew did not have the motivation to change into something more casual. He closed his eyes, tried to will himself into slumber but it was difficult. His mind flashed thoughts like bolts of lightning, striking in places he would least expect. It finally moved passed tormenting him about his mother; it moved to his school instead. His chair would remain empty in those classrooms forevermore now. What would his peers say? That their suspicions about him had been right all along? That he was just Andross’s kin—evil and nothing more?  
  
Anger rose in him and he tightened his curled position, fingertips pressing into his pillow. They could say whatever the hell they wanted, he seethed silently. They could call him whatever their hearts desired! He did not have to build those barricades anymore to protect himself. He did not have to endure them anymore. No more pressuring societal expectations! He would help his uncle carve out a path to a future where they did not have to worry. Everything they had ever wanted would be served up on a silver platter and Andrew would eat his fill.

He lay like that for some time—an indefinite amount of time, trying to force himself into sleep but never quite making it that far. Footsteps alerted him before long, a soft pattering against the metal—soft like fabric. Andrew had gotten good at identifying footsteps when he was a child. There had been lots of nights when he had learned to hear angry footsteps and had learned to quickly hide under the bed. But these sounded young, excitable, but very evidently trying to be quiet. They came to the sleeping quarters and stopped in the doorway for a second before proceeding.  
  
“Hey!” whispered a voice. Lloyd’s, clearly. Andrew peeked over his shoulder back at the young kitten, who was leaning hard against the simian’s chosen bed. “Wake up!”  
  
“What is it?” Andrew asked in a sour tone.  
  
“Lunch time!” Lloyd said cheerily. “Errrr, almost lunch time! I’mma go make it! Whatcha wanna eat?”  
  
Andrew stared at the kitten, blinking rapidly but not from sleepiness. His stomach gave a gurgle—he did suppose he was getting hungry, but it was hard to feel anything when he felt everything. Still bending over to not bump his head against the top of the upper bunk, Andrew swung his legs around so he was sitting at the side of the bed. He massaged his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to figure out what to say. If anything, he wanted to get the cat to go away so he could go back to brooding. But his stomach gurgled again, a bit sharper this time, telling him maybe he should try to eat. Maybe he would feel better if his stomach was full.  
  
“Uhhh,” the simian began awkwardly. “What’dya got?”  
  
“Come with me!” Lloyd replied, grabbing Andrew’s wrist. He gave a little tug and Andrew sighed, letting the kitten drag him down the corridor towards the lounge.  
  
Much like the rest of the Dullahan, the lounge was cramped and positioned slightly off to the side from the main hall. There was a kitchen and dining area connected to it, consisting of a stove, cabinet, oven, and a booth that could fit four people at it. The northern wall was where the kitchen equipment was located, the pantry built into a tall cabinet on the far right-hand side. Lloyd scampered towards the pantry, releasing his semi-willing prisoner in the process. He pushed a button to slide the door open and began rummaging inside, banded tail flitting back and forth as he did so.  
  
“Cup noodles?” Lloyd asked after a few seconds of scavenging, holding up a box filled to the brim with random noodles featuring random flavors.  
  
Andrew blinked. When was the last time he had eaten cup noodles? His mother had never cared for them but his father had often bought them for the nights when his mother did not cook. His father had never been much of a chef—especially not when his drinking problem had hit its peak. As Lloyd pulled out a cup from the box, Andrew felt a strange sense of bitter nostalgia wash over him.  
  
“Sure,” the simian replied indifferently.  
  
“Okie dokie,” Lloyd grabbed another cup and toddled over to the stove.  
  
Andrew watched the kitten pull out a stool and a cooking pot from a nearby set of drawers. Lloyd set the stool down first then stepped onto it, heaving the pot upwards towards the sink as he did. His tiny arms struggled to lift the pot by the handle, his teeth bared and clenched. Thoughtlessly, Andrew reached out and helped him, glancing down at the young cat in concern.  
  
“You uh… you sure you got this?” the simian asked, his doubt ringing clear in his tone.  
  
“Yeah, my dad taught me how,” Lloyd replied, turning the sink knob to start filling the pot.  
  
Once it was full enough to satisfy the kitten, he began to lift it again, with even more difficulty. Andrew sighed and helped him move it towards the stovetop, sighing as he did. There was something distinctly off about the idea of letting a child cook him lunch, even if it was just cup noodles. Andrew sighed once more, crossing his arms over his thin chest. He never considered himself the responsible type but he felt compelled to make sure the kid managed his task without burning himself.  
  
The coils of the stove eventually turned to a glowing orange-red and Lloyd was quick to start observing the water for telltale signs of boiling. He hummed softly as he did, slightly off-pitch with the tempo drunkenly stumbling about. Normally Andrew would have thought to fill the awkward near-silence with some form of fumbling conversation. Yet at that moment, the simian found himself drained of all willpower to maintain any semblance of normalcy. He sat at the booth, bum on the very edge to keep an eye on the humming kitten. He rested his jaw into his palm, massaging it with a bitter expression.  
  
“So what’cher name?” Lloyd asked, swaying back and forth on the stool.  
  
“Andrew,” came Andrew’s reply, a little more sullen than he had intended.  
  
“I’m Lloyd,” the cat replied, enunciating his name as clearly as his youthful mouth could. “Lloyd Darkmoon. I’m the... er... _what's that word again..._ er… ah! Team Support Man.”  
  
The last bit was said with importance but Andrew could not fathom that was a real title.  
  
“When Dad and Cedric fly the ship, I do the extra stuff! I’m the helper!” Lloyd continued proudly.  
  
“Cool,” Andrew said awkwardly, not really sure how to respond to that. He had not been around kids for… well. Some time. Not since he was a kid. But he could not have said he was terribly savvy at social cues back then either. Still, he got the feeling he should say something to spur along the conversation—if anything, to keep the kid from being upset at his coldness. Sighing, the simian asked, “What kind of stuff do you do to help?”  
  
“Cooking and cleaning,” Lloyd said with a fanged grin. “Sometimes I watch the ship too. ‘Specially for bad guys.”  
  
As soon as he said the last bit, he shut his mouth quickly, looking a bit alarmed. He quickly turned back with a tiny gasp—although Andrew was almost certain he was more surprised at the fact that the water had started boiling without him noticing. The cat began turning down the heat, looking at the cup noodles. He opened them both then grabbed the pot by the handle. Andrew watched carefully, getting ready to step up and help if it was still too heavy.  
  
“Bad guys?” Andrew asked with a frown dipping the corners of his mouth.  
  
“Uhhhhhh…” Lloyd fumbled then said quickly. “Not much, just sometimes. Does your dad teach you stuff too?”  
  
“I—” Andrew began but whatever he was going to respond with evaporated.   
  
Had his dad ever taught him anything? Andrew’s mind immediately screamed no as an answer. No, his dad had taught him nothing. His dad had barely been around at all. And when he had, he was always angry, smelling awful—a blend of loitering cigarette smoke and burning booze with heavy dabs of cologne to offset the stench. The sound of his drunken footsteps had been an off-beat rhythm that Andrew had learned to memorize as a young boy. Some nights, Andrew would play in his room with the lights off so those drunken steps would pass him by. He had never been scared of monsters like the other kids. Well. Not the kind of monsters most kids were afraid of.  
  
Andrew had learned how to muffle his feet with socks when he crept at night. He had learned his uncle’s phone number by heart so he could call it when things got bad. It was always worst when his father came home from “another night with the boys”. It got even worse when those nights involved lipstick markings on his nape. The sound his mother would make in those days… wails that pierced his young heart, wails that still rang in his ears when he thought of them. Wails that he was certain would happen tonight, when she understood he was not coming back. Wails that would tear into that rickety old house and last into the night. His heart broke all over again.  
  
His breath caught in his throat. Something pounded loud in his ears, drowning out the memory of his mother’s shrill sobs. His heart, he realized a few seconds later. His heart was beating _fast_. Dimly aware of the present, Andrew’s golden eyes turned to the young kitten as he stepped down from his stool.  
  
“Alrighty! All done. Here ya go, Andrew!” Lloyd said, turning to face Andrew with a beaming smile a cup full of noodles in hand. “Here’s your—”  
  
The next sound that came out of the young cat was choked, garbled. His arms started shivering, his fingers twitching. The cup noodles fell, splashing onto the ground. Lloyd did not even seem to notice; his hands went to his forehead, his mismatched eyes flooding with a sudden onset of tears.   
  
Andrew felt himself rooted to the spot, unable to blink or breathe as the young cat fell to his knees. His claws exposed, he dug into his own fur. His twin, pearly fangs bared in quiet, quivering agony. His thin body trembled, back hunched. And then even his knees gave way, causing young Lloyd to fall onto his side, curled into a fetal position.  
  
“Hey!” Andrew yelped, suddenly finding it in himself to surge forward. He reached down, boots splashing into the spilled broth.  
  
A soft murmur could be heard from the kitten.  
  
“ _Daddy don’t do it. Don’t do it, Daddy_.”  
  
Those words. They were too familiar for comfort.  
  
Panicked, Andrew grabbed Lloyd’s shoulders and the moment his palms felt the fabric of the boy’s clothes, Andrew felt the world snap into darkness. Wildly, he looked about, a cold seeping in—cold like winter in Corneria City. It bit through his uniform, all the way to his bone.   
  
There was a light a few feet away, streaming in from beneath a door. Odd, Andrew thought to himself hastily. The light was coming from where the wall with the stove ought to have been. He went to grab Lloyd tighter and hoist him up but his limbs felt numb. Strangely numb. He could not even feel himself grabbing onto the kitten any longer.  
  
He could hear the sound of a knob slowly turning, creaking an agonized note. Andrew’s eyes turned to the door, a shadow falling across the light. The door began to swing inward, opening and letting the yellow-tinted light from the hall pour in. But in the split-second before the door opened all of the way, the light went out. In the muted silence, Andrew could not hear Lloyd nor feel him. He could only hear the haggard breathing—a familiar pattern. The simian’s eyes struggled to adjust. All he could tell was that there was a tall figure in the doorway, darker than the darkness around them.  
  
And then came the wailing, echoing all around him. It tore through him, left him paralyzed. It sounded just as he remembered it.   
  
All he could do was sit there, kneeling so hard into the ground that his kneecaps were growing numb. His golden eyes remained transfixed at the shadowy silhouette as it stumbled forward, a hand awkwardly bumping into the doorframe. A stomach-churning gulp could be heard, followed by the sound of something dropping then shattering like glass. Liquor’s fiery scent burned Andrew’s nostrils as the silhouette drew closer and somehow, even in the pitch black of night, the simian knew what it was. _Who_ it was.  
  
Hide under the bed, his brain screamed but his feet were frozen in place. He felt like he could scarcely breathe, the overpowering scent of alcohol drowning his senses. A faint, fanged smile flashed in the dark and Andrew felt gripping fear like he had not felt in years.  
  
And just as suddenly as the world had changed before, it changed back—and Andrew found himself staring up as Silas hastily grabbed Lloyd from Andrew’s lanky arms. The brightly-lit kitchen area sat around him. His pant leg at the knee was soaked with the warmth of the cup noodle broth.   
  
A hissing set of swears tore from Silas’s mouth, spoken in that tongue Andrew did not understand. The cat checked his son’s pulse, a hardened desperation written across his typically stoic features.  
  
“What just—” Andrew began. “What just h-happened…!?”  
  
Silas did not reply. His cold eyes were focused on the kitten in his arms. Shakily, Andrew rose to his feet, looking down at Lloyd’s face. He was unconscious. His chest rose rapidly with breath, his body shivering still. His mouth moved but no words came out, just struggled breaths. Silas stared at him for some time before suddenly moving towards the hallway, cradling the kitten close to his chest. He murmured something inaudible to his son.  
  
Irrational fears began pouring into the simian’s mind. Was this his fault? Was he cursed somehow? No… no, that could not be right. All they were doing was talking. _Talking_! How could that have caused anything?   
  
Andrew blinked, his eyes watering from staring after Silas. For a moment, he could still feel that dark room and hear the wailing. But it was over in a millisecond, leaving him alone on the kitchen floor with questions and horror festering in his chest. What the hell had that been? Had Andrew blacked out too? Or was it just some vivid, nightmarish daydream? It had to be the latter, he told himself. There was no way it was anything but that. Just a memory that washed over him, stronger than reality itself.  
  
He dismissed it, silently citing logic and then promptly giving in to a different sort of fear. If his history had proven anything it was that ever since the day his uncle had been taken away, society had been afraid of him. Afraid that he would turn out the same way—a madman. A murderer. And for a flickering moment, Andrew feared they were right somehow. That somehow he had spoken death upon that young kitten. It made no sense but it made too much sense. And that made him fear Silas would shoot him. Or worse, shove him out the airlock.  
  
“I-I didn’t… I didn’t touch him!” Andrew yelped, chasing after Silas. “W-we were talking… W-w-we were just talking, and—”  
  
“Quiet!” Silas snapped as they approached the bunkbeds. “He will be well.”

Gently, he deposited Lloyd onto one of the beds. He felt the boy’s forehead, as if checking for a fever. Then he stepped back, looking down at Lloyd solemnly. 

“Is he gonna be okay…?” Andrew asked.  
  
“Yes,” Silas said shortly.  
  
“W-what happened… to him…?” Andrew asked quietly, voice a squeak.  
  
Silas’s reply was apprehensive and cryptic. “He has had these episodes since he was born.”  
  
“There’s gotta be something a doctor could do for him,” Andrew said. Technology and medicine had come so far in the last few years. It seemed like there was nothing doctors could not do anymore. 

Silas’s mouth curled into a wry smirk.  
  
“40,000 Lylatian credits just to see a specialist. Not to speak of the cost for treatment.”  
  
Andrew winced. That was a lot of money just for a consultation. And judging from the weight in Silas’s voice, he could tell the feline had exhausted every avenue. All he would have to do was gain the credit somehow. And in this economy, Andrew was certain that was nearly impossible to do as a pilot. The simian winced further when he realized he was basically being toted to Venom for free. As much as he was wanting to get to his uncle… when he viewed it like that, knowing Lloyd’s condition… Andrew felt a bit sick to his stomach.  
  
“People say this is the greatest age in the Lylat System. That we have finally achieved an ideal society. But any society that can look at a suffering child and still demand money to spare him pain… that is no ideal society,” Silas spat bitterly.  
_  
"The world can’t stay how it is. Y’know that, right?”_

Eva’s words felt stronger, steeling Andrew’s resolve. He swallowed, looking down at the metallic floor. This was just another example of why things needed to change. Ugh, he wished he could move the Dullahan faster towards Venom. The closer he was there, the faster he felt they could get started setting things right again. 

“If there was a way to change it…” Andrew began quietly and Silas cut him off sharply.

“Such a way does not exist. It is in the soul’s nature to be greedy and nothing can change that. Remember that. No pious man exists in this world.”

What a pessimistic outlook. Andrew felt the cat’s words sting into a deeper part of himself—that hopeful part, the one banking on hope to get to Venom, to change the cruel status quo. Recoiling as if stung, the simian jerked his head away, looking to the steel interior walls as if they would feed him a reply. But they remained silent and Andrew was left to sift through his thoughts and feelings for a reply.  
  
“That can’t be true,” Andrew said and Silas looked scornful. With a scoff and a sigh, Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. There were more things to say but he could not find the way to shape those feelings into words. And so, he sputtered out clumsily. “If it was, the world would be hopeless.”

Silas had nothing to say to that. His nose crinkled slightly. The two of them looked at the resting Lloyd for a few quiet moments. Stirring slightly, the kitten’s expression changed to concern… and then grew lax, as if whisked away to a pleasant dream land. Andrew thought again of the strange, dark reverie he had experienced earlier. He thought of Lloyd’s faint mumbling. At first, Andrew was certain he had heard those words correctly… but as time ticked by, the simian convinced himself that he _had_ to had misheard. He had to have just been remembering everything a little _too_ hard. So hard he was hearing things in the real world. Yes. That had to be it.  
  
A beep from the overhead speakers interrupted his train of thought. The puma’s deep voice soon followed.   
  
“Silas! We have CDF patrolmen flagging our ship wanting to know our route. I need you at the cockpit!”  
  
“Of course,” Silas scowled then looked to Andrew. “If you could clean the mess in the kitchen, I would be _most_ appreciative.”  
  
“What about Lloyd?” Andrew asked.  
  
“All he needs is rest. He has had far worse days,” Silas shook his head.  
  
"Silas! Hurry!” the puma’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“I am coming, Cedric!” Silas called down the long metal corridor to the ship’s cockpit. To Andrew, the feline continued reassuringly. “He will be fine. Do not let his condition trouble you.”  
  
The two began down the hall and split off at the lounge. As Silas went to go handle the situation with the CDF, Andrew stopped at the kitchen sector of the lounge. There was still a cup sitting on the counter, filled with water. The temperature had surely lowered by now, Andrew thought grimly. His stomach gurgled but it was not from being hungry. Uneasiness filled him to the brim as he looked down at the spilled noodles on the ground. Looking at it just served to remind him what had happened and so Andrew made quick work of his search for a way to clean it up.   
  
He found some rags that looked stained from over the years. They had faded floral patterns, similar to the ones his mother owned. Andrew did not let himself dwell on that thought for long; he soon began about his work mopping up the broth and noodles both. He dug his hand a little bit harder into ground as he wiped, grounding himself in the present, anchoring himself in reality. Teeth clenched, he gathered all the noodles up and dumped them into the waste bin. That was when he heard it.  
_  
Beep… beep… beep…_  
  
There was something familiar about that noise… but he could not put his finger on it. And so, as a moth to a flame, Andrew Oikonny pursued that sound. He wandered past the sleeping Lloyd to the washroom and then a bit further, until the hallway ended in a large set of doors.  
  
At those final doors, Andrew hesitated. Silas had just said it was machinery back there—likely the engines. But it was odd, now that Andrew thought on it. The Dullahan was not a big ship but it was definitely not _this_ small. He proposed there had to be something between him and the engines. Hands still slightly sticky from the cold noodle broth, Andrew approached the sliding doors with trepidation. He cocked his ear towards the doors, trying to listen. Judging from the volume of the beep as he came closer, he could tell the alarm was coming from within and not too far away. The simian cast a glance behind him, at the hall that stretched all the way to the cockpit. He supposed there was no harm in peeking, especially if Silas and Cedric were busy dealing with the CDF.   
  
Andrew tapped the button to open the doors. The adjacent room was dark, illuminated by obligatory emergency lights in each corner. When he stepped in, a single light flickered to life overhead.   
  
From a cursory glance, it was clear that this was a cargo bay. It was mostly empty except for a cluster of crates sitting in the middle. They were unmarked and that struck Andrew as odd. He wandered a few steps closer, glancing down at one of the crates. The lid had been cracked open and left slightly ajar. A crimson glow pulsed within, synced perfectly to each beep. There was no way that the source of the beeping was not inside, Andrew thought as he neared it, slipping a hand underneath to crack the lid open just a little bit more.   
  
In the dim lighting, it was hard to tell what was inside. He could see the red glow flashing but it was so brief that it showed nothing of the box’s contents. Uncertain, Andrew pulled his phone out, using its flashlight feature to light up the inside.  
  
His gasp was not inconspicuous.  
  
There was a tiny weapon rack inside, crafted out of silver metal. A series of slots lined both sides of the rack, fourteen in total. Each slot was equipped with a blaster—military grade, the kind that Andrew had seen at the Academy. The label “Northstar” was on the handle, printed in thick white letters.  
  
All of the blasters were firmly secured into the rack, each barrel seized by the contraption to make it difficult to pull one out and steal it. Andrew had heard about this at the Academy from the students wanting to go into the CDF. The Northstar blasters were assigned with serial numbers and kept in vaults so soldiers did not have access to them all the time. The CDF did not let even their own take their weapons home. Not out of fear, Andrew always thought. One traitor in their midst and they could have the schematics to their advanced weaponry leaked.  
  
Not that it seemed to matter in this case. These had definitely been stolen and what was worse was the red light on the weapon’s rack flashing over and over again. The security system on the rack had been activated somehow.  
  
Andrew’s fear gripped around his lungs like a vice.  
  
That would certainly explain why the CDF was here.  
  
Oh no. What if they found out where he was going? What if they tried to search the ship? Oh no… they would send him back. He would be back to square one.   
  
Andrew’s panic was quickly eclipsed by a massive shadow stealing up the light in the hallway behind him. He whirled around with a second gasp in time to see Cedric’s muscled frame filling the doorway. The puma’s ears peeled back and he bared his fangs to the simian.  
  
“And this is why I did not want any extra baggage on this trip,” sneered the auburn feline, his tail lashing angrily. He stepped forward aggressively, golden eyes narrowing to hostile slits. Drawing a pistol from his belt, he aimed the barrel directly at Andrew’s chest. “Give me one reason I should not blast you where you stand, ape.”  
  
“I---” Andrew fumbled, every excuse he had completely lost amid his panic.  
  
“Move aside,” the puma snarled and Andrew side-stepped quickly, letting the puma pass him by. He reached into the box with his free hand and something clicked. A few seconds passed and Andrew noticed the beeping stopped, along with the red flashing light.   
  
Cedric’s next exhale was slightly more relieved than the last. He kept his gun aimed at Andrew, unwavering.  
  
“I…I came here because of the beeping… I-I won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell them what’s—” Andrew began.  
  
“How do I know you did not set it off?” Cedric asked accusingly. “Perhaps you are a mole sent by General Pepper.”  
  
Andrew had no alibi nor presence of mind to argue. He stumbled over his next words, which came out so chaotically that they did not sound like words at all—just garbled noises. Almost certain the puma was about to fire upon him, he threw his hands in front of his chest, hoping to somehow shield himself from a sudden death.  
  
Another shadow cut through the corridor light. Andrew glanced over to see Silas rubbing his forehead and sighing at the situation.   
  
“You are bad at instructions,” Silas observed then looked to Cedric. “Lower your weapon. He will not tell anyone.”  
  
“You trust too easily,” Cedric sneered. “He could have tipped off the CDF.”  
  
“He did not. He would not have had the time to,” Silas replied. “It could have just been the ship shifting during flight.”  
  
Cedric snapped something back at Silas but it was in another language. Andrew watched Silas give a somber reply, met with Cedric hissing disdainfully and sheathing his pistol. Silas glanced to Andrew.  
  
“The CDF have opted to leave us alone. I convinced them their quarry was elsewhere,” Silas said. “We will proceed to Venom at once, hopefully without any more incidents.”  
  
“Why are these Northstars here?” Andrew asked, brow furrowing.  
  
The edge of Silas’s mouth turned into a fleeting smile. “They fetch quite a price to the right buyer.”  
  
“You’re a smuggler,” Andrew realized. He felt like a line had been crossed but he was not even sure who the culprit was. Joining a rebellion for the greater good and for the name of family felt honorable. But this? Smuggling weapons? He felt a little dirty… but only a little, and even less so when he realized that what Silas was doing would hurt the CDF.  
  
“I am a lot of things,” Silas answered dismissively. “The first being a concerned father. Let us put aside this ugliness and… all agree to move on. It will make for a more pleasant trip to the Outreach that way.”  
  
“If that is your wish,” Cedric sighed.  
  
“Sure,” Andrew nodded.  
  
Silas stepped aside and the three departed the cargo bay. There were no words exchanged between them as they made their way back to the front of the ship. Cedric went back to the cockpit and Silas stopped by the bunk beds to check on Lloyd. Andrew stopped as well, deciding to climb into his own bunk to get some rest. But before he did, he chanced a look at Silas, watching him run a concerned hand over Lloyd’s forehead. The young kitten stirred, mumbling something to his father. Silas chatted back in the other language, his tone warm. It was a moment Andrew felt himself unable to look away from, a strange alienation infecting his emotions.   
  
Sometimes, his feelings about his uncle being gone were not focused on the outrage of his exile. They were focused on the quieter moments, the softer ones. Missing the way his uncle would hum as he worked. Missing the scent of his clothes or the smell of his dark roasted coffee every morning. Some days, Andrew lamented about how he had been robbed twice over—once with his deadbeat dad and then again when the Cornerians had taken his uncle away.   
  
He rolled over with vengeful thoughts, listening to Silas walk away. Soon, they would make it to Venom and all of those years that were taken from them… well, Andrew would make up for the time lost. He vowed it to himself and to his uncle. They would set the world back to where it needed to be… and they would never be separated again. Not by anyone. And not for a million years.  
  
It was a brash wish but it was enough to fill that emptiness in his chest-- the one that had been there for far too long.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah there's gonna have to be one more section before I call this one done. As per usual, things got longer than I anticipated. Ah well, I hope the build up will make the finale land all the better.
> 
> After reading this, my beta reader told me I absolutely needed to write a Wolf and Andrew oneshot post-Lylat Wars tackling Andrew's feelings about seeing his mom again. I can safely say that's in the cards. Probably after this and the next Star-Crossed chapter are done.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed Lloyd, Cedric, and Silas. They will be appearing in future fics for sure along with my take on Animus. 
> 
> "Monkey is sus." -- Cedric, probably


	4. A Long Way From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venom comes into sight. It's now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter got so long I decided to cut it in half. There was a lot more material I wanted to cover than I initially thought, but that's just how it be sometimes. Hopefully will have the actual final chapter done soon!

Lloyd awoke a few hours later—happy and chipper as ever, as though nothing had happened. Andrew watched him happily bound down the metal corridors of the Dullahan, his father’s disapproving shouts doing nothing to deter him. It was incredible how quickly the young kitten had recovered but Andrew supposed that was far better than the alternative. As Lloyd ran by for the fifth time, the young cat skidded to a stop in front of where Andrew was sitting in his bunk, leaning against the wall.  
  
“Sorry about the cup noodles,” the kitten apologized to him.  
  
“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Andrew said dismissively.  
  
Lloyd hesitated for a moment, tilting his head to the side. He looked like he wanted to say something extra but all he did was flash a grin and hurry back to his tasks. Andrew sighed and watched him go.   
  
The rest of the day was spent killing time. Andrew had thankfully had the foresight to bring his laptop for the voyage. There was no way to connect online aboard the Dullahan—a trait he found weird in this day and age. It likely had to do with the ship’s origin being from Animus, he reasoned with himself, and opted to dig through his storage of saved video games to stave off his boredom.   
  
The days that ensued were monotonous and so similar that they blurred together. Cedric kept a close eye on the simian, his burning amber eyes looking as though they could find five ways to kill Andrew on sight at any given moment if the monkey crossed a line. Lloyd did not have another episode, maintaining his playful nature and harassing Andrew often about inane things. He would peek over the simian’s shoulder to watch him play video games, adding in ridiculous sound effects that tempted Andrew to shove the nosy kitten off of his bunk bed. Silas kept his cool, directing the Dullahan around heavy clusters of CDF forces and anxiously checking his cargo to ensure no more incidents.  
  
There was no cell service in deep space, of course, but that did not stop Andrew from periodically glancing over at his phone. Even if his mother had tried to reach him, there was no way to hear her messages now. He… was not sure if that was a good or bad thing. The separation from Corneria solidified his resolve over time, if only because the further he was from Corneria, the more his heart raced. And the more his heart raced, the more it felt like he could never go back. Not to that innocent life.  
  
When Venom came into sight, Silas called Andrew to the cockpit. The planet was a swirling jade phantom in the distance, tendrils of toxic gas flaring about around it in a lethal halo. The sight was terrifying to behold—a far cry from Corneria’s inviting, picturesque appearance. Andrew wondered if it had been this scary when his uncle had been brought here. Had they let him look out the window to see his new prison? Or had they just dumped him out of the door as soon as they touched down?  
  
“We are here,” Silas announced. “When we are a bit closer, I will send you in a pod.”  
  
Getting shot anywhere in an escape pod did not seem like the most fun way to travel. But Andrew supposed he could not blame Silas. If the air really was as toxic as people claimed, he could not risk it getting aboard his ship. That could prove disastrous to anyone without a protective suit on board.  
  
“Have you picked up any signals?” Andrew asked.  
  
“Out here? No,” Silas shook his head.  
  
“Have you checked different frequencies?” the simian asked. “I… I just know he’s here.”  
  
“You said it was a friend you were searching for?” Silas asked. “What is their name?”  
  
Andrew hesitated. Oh boy, the moment of truth. He drew in a deep breath, staring ahead at the distant Venom with quiet determination.  
  
“Doctor Andross.”  
  
He expected a reaction and was surprised when he got none from either of the felines. It struck him then that because the two were from Animus, it was likely they had never even _heard_ of Andross or his alleged crimes. After all, Corneria, for all of its might and glory, was just one planet in a system full of them. The simian’s shoulders loosened slightly in relief.  
  
“An odd name,” Silas remarked and that was that.  
  
Cedric snorted from the co-pilot’s chair. Wordlessly, he began sifting through various frequencies. Silas turned back, looking ahead through the windshield at the distant Venom.  
  
“It reeks of evil. _Pah_. I cannot say I think this is a good idea,” the feline admitted. “But we have come this far. It would be a shame to turn back now.”  
  
“It would,” Andrew said firmly. “No matter what, I gotta see this through.”  
  
“Admirable. Just take care to not march to an early grave,” Silas replied. “I will keep checking for signals.”  
  
Andrew spent the next few hours in a haze, gathering his belongings. He had not unpacked much at all in the entire voyage, so it was easy to make sure he had grabbed everything. But that left time to wait. And that time spent waiting led to a fervent heartbeat and eager pacing. He was so close that he could taste it… but now that they were here, he felt lost. What were they going to do if they could not find the right frequency? What if Andross did not reach out to them? Would they have to search the whole planet? Would Silas do that for him? Andrew doubted it severely.  
  
“Whatcha gonna do when ya see your uncle?” Lloyd asked the nervous Andrew.  
  
“I…” Andrew paused, glancing at the young child. “I don’t know.”  
  
“You should give him a hug!” Lloyd exclaimed. “Everyone likes hugs!”  
  
Andrew could not deny that. But still, even with the kitten’s suggestion, the simian felt as though he was at a loss.   
  
“Hey Andrew…” Lloyd said from the bunk he was sitting in, feet swinging back and forth. “I’m gonna miss you being here.”  
  
A sentimental thought. Andrew was, of course, eager to touch down on Venom but he could not deny a sort of comfort about voyaging across the Dullahan. Sure, the ship was a bit cramped but having a defined destination gave a certain type of security. Not knowing what would come next was anxiety-inducing and in all the wrong ways.   
  
“If you don’t like it on Venom, you could live with us,” Lloyd continued along in that naïve tone of his. “Dad’s gonna get us a bigger ship one day. He’s the best pilot ever, y’know.”  
  
A tiny little pause, his mismatched eyes parsing Andrew’s hazed over expression.  
  
“We could have a huge team! And get into space fights and blast some baddies!” Lloyd exclaimed, making a few ‘pew, pew, pew’ noises for emphasis. “It’d be fun! Dad said he’d teach me how to fly soon. Do you know how to fly? Maybe he could teach you, too!”  
  
The simian glanced over his shoulder at the kitten. With the lax shrug of his shoulders, he said, “Sorry. I don’t really think that life’s for me. I just…” His yellow eyes skirted towards the cockpit down the hall—too far to make out any details but close enough to see Venom swelling in the front windshield as they grew closer. “… I just wanna see my uncle.”  
  
Lloyd’s ears drooped for a second but he cracked a small smile at Andrew.  
  
“You sure like him!”  
  
“Well… yeah. I mean…. He helped raise me.”  
  
For a while at least.  
  
“I’ve never had an uncle before,” Lloyd chimed jovially, his tail dancing back and forth. “What’re they like?”  
  
“Well mine was… _is…_ ” Andrew began, reminding himself that ‘was’ was a thing of the past. “He’s great. He was kind of like a dad to me, I guess. He used to teach me how to do things and he’d… he’d spend time with me…”  
  
Singing silly songs, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, playing video games… How anyone could be like that and also a cold-blooded murderer, Andrew did not know. Did not understand. The Cornerians had pinned so much on him but Andrew refused to believe their “evidence” was real. It had all been a scheme and his uncle had been the fall guy.   
There was no way Andross had done all of those things…  
  
… Right?  
  
Why that worry was suddenly surfacing was no doubt a side-effect of his nerves, or so he theorized as he shoved the anxieties from the front of his mind. Something else occurred to him then, particularly about Lloyd’s questions. All this time, he had been careful not to mention who he had been looking for—specifically his relation to the person. But Lloyd had specifically asked about his uncle...  
  
The simian felt something strange crawl up his spine, like a ghastly serpent slithering up his spine. His golden eyes cut over to Lloyd. Innocent, sweet little Lloyd, swinging his legs back and forth with a merry expression. The more he was around this child, the stranger things seemed to be and the more things did not make sense.  
  
“How’d you know I was looking for my uncle?” Andrew inquired in a quiet voice.  
  
“Ummm,” Lloyd began, suddenly flustered and scratching the back of his neck. “You uhhh umm… you ummm… were sleeptalkin’…”  
  
“What?” Andrew asked, eyes narrowed.  
  
“Andrew!” Silas’s voice on the overhead speakers interrupted them and Andrew glanced towards the cockpit. “To the cockpit, please.”  
  
Andrew left Lloyd by the bunks, a myriad of questions buzzing around his mind. Sleeptalking? He had never been known to do that! But he had been stressed lately. Maybe he had been dreaming vividly and had started babbling in his sleep? How embarrassing.  
  
“Word from Venom?” Andrew asked as he arrived to the cockpit and Silas shook his head.  
  
“If they know we are here then they are keeping their silence,” Silas replied. “I thought perhaps you might give it a try?”  
  
“Me?” Andrew asked.  
  
“Yes,” Silas answered with a curt nod. “Perhaps they will answer you.”  
  
Andrew settled into the co-pilot chair next to him. He tapped through a few frequencies, studying the way the Dullahan responded to each one. The ship was different than the Cornerian builds but it had an indicator that determined if the frequency was in use. Andrew cautioned himself that any of the frequencies could be used by the CDF—and if they were listening in then he feared blowing his uncle’s cover. But then he second-guessed that paranoia. What reason would Corneria have to monitor Venom anymore? All they did was dump their trash there and leave. He grabbed the microphone, settling it next to his mouth. Tossing Silas a quick glance, he drew in a deep, uncertain breath.  
  
“Dullahan to Venom, this is Andrew Oikonny. Requesting landing coordinates, over.”  
  
Silence. But he did hear the faint buzz of static. Was there… someone on the other line?  
  
It felt like an eternity passed before the reply came.  
  
“What… did you say your name was?”  
  
“Andrew Oikonny.”  
  
Pause.  
  
“Coordinates 345, 154. Landing permissions granted.”  
  
Another pause and then they concluded with:  
  
“Welcome to Venom, Mr. Oikonny.”  
  
The line went dead after.  
  
“Then it’s true,” Andrew said breathlessly, resting back into the co-pilot’s chair. As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Of course it was true. It had been true all along. Even if it had seemed too insane, too good.   
  
“We will be within range to fire you off soon. Cedric ought to be fixing the Melquan suits up in the back. Go speak with him and he will give you the instructions on how to _hopefully_ not die as soon as you open the door,” Silas said.

Andrew departed the cockpit with his heart racing in his ears. He did one last check around his bunk area to make sure he had grabbed everything. After that, he slung his packed bag over his shoulder and made his way to where Cedric had gotten a protective suit ready for him.  
  
The suit looked something similar to a scuba diver’s suit but far bigger. It looked padded on the inside and as Andrew slipped it on, he felt as though he had gained a million pounds of cushion. It was a little difficult to move his arms; Cedric helped make sure his backpack was strapped on tight to his back. It rested slightly off to the side, pushed that way by a box attached to the suit. It was an oxygen box, filled with air already and equipped with a filtration system that would make sure he did not suffocate on Venom’s surface. The helmet went over his head and immediately, Andrew felt air being blasted into his face. He sputtered some, adjusting a knob on the suit’s chest. Cedric’s knuckles rapped the helmet lightly.  
  
“Make sure your helmet is secured or you will perish,” the puma instructed him in a voice that made it sound like he did not particularly mind if that were the case. “Guard the oxygen box with your life. If it is damaged, you will perish. The cushion will protect you from being exposed to the toxic air. If it is damaged sufficiently, you will perish. Am I clear?”  
  
“Y-yeah…” Andrew fumbled, wondering if there was any way to _not_ perish if the suit was damaged.  
  
“Good,” Cedric growled.   
  
Calibrating the coordinates on the escape pod was the next item to deal with. Cedric handled most of that, showing Andrew where the pod was located off the bottom of the ship. It was cramped, as the simian had expected. As soon as he settled into the chair and stowed his belongings, he felt the walls shrink in slightly. It was nearly impossible to shuffle around with Cedric there plugging in the coordinates in question. Andrew waited patiently until the puma was done.  
  
“You are aware this is nothing short of madness, boy?” the russet-furred feline asked.  
  
“They gave us the coordinates. There has to be _something_ there,” Andrew said.  
  
Cedric looked doubtful but merely shook his head. “Strap in. Once Silas has the ship in position, he will fire you down.”  
  
Andrew hoped it would not be long and he was fortunate in that it was not. When Silas announced on the overhead speakers that the Dullahan was parked just above Venom’s atmosphere, Andrew felt his stomach turn to steel… and then to nervous mush. He looked at Cedric as the puma stepped out of the pod and onto the Dullahan proper. Lloyd peeked around him at Andrew, head cocked to the side in curiosity. Cedric grabbed the handle of the pod’s sliding door, his broad shoulders taking up the bulk of the doorway.  
  
“Remember. Do not let the suit be damaged,” the puma reminded him sharply.  
  
“Bye, Andrew!” Lloyd waved. “See ya later!”  
  
“Bye!” Andrew replied, severely doubting he would see any of these people again. Especially if Venom was as dangerous as they claimed it was.  
  
Cedric slammed the door and Andrew could hear it latch shut. The quiet that ensued was frightening, clenching down on every inch of him. He grabbed a nearby handle after strapping himself into the chair. There was a window outside and a small computer that looked to solely be for communication. The screen brimmed to life with Silas’s face.  
  
“I would say it is a good day for a drop onto Venom but I fear those days do not exist. How are you feeling?” the gray feline asked.  
  
“Fine,” Andrew squeaked.  
  
“Good. Ready yourself. We are in position.”  
  
The feline tapped a few things and Andrew heard machinery working outside. The pod was readying itself to be launched. This was it. It was really happening. Silas’s cold blue eyes turned to look back at him.  
  
“Launching pod in 3…”  
  
Was it too late to have regrets about this?  
  
“2…”  
  
Probably.  
  
“1…”  
  
His fingers clung to the handle and the simian shut his eyes.  
  
“Launch!”  
  
When the pod fired off, Andrew was reminded of all those times his mother and uncle had tried to get him to go on rollercoasters. He had never minded the rides that shot him horizontally. It was the ones with the drops that had always bugged him. His stomach didn’t give up his lunch but it felt like it had somehow plummeted through the soles of his feet and also had somehow been caught up in his nostrils. If he screamed, it was drowned out by the sound of everything else happening. Roars filled his ears, banging against his eardrums. It sounded like a wildfire, blazing and untamed. His body was pressed against his seat by an unseen force and his fingers tangled themselves around the handle in a bid for stability.  
  
One of his eyes cracked open to glance out of the window. All he saw was redness, bright as a sun. He was entering the atmosphere, he knew. His eye shut again and he waited. Waited. Waited. It felt like forever passed before he felt the pod start to slow. Andrew glanced out the window again. After breaking through that final layer of atmosphere, the pod hurtled downwards, some form of thrusters starting to slow its descent. The simian felt the pod drop suddenly a few feet—so quickly that his butt left the seat. He yelped and then the screen informed him the emergency parachute had been deployed.   
  
The rest was the picture of serenity. Venom’s skies were colored like a sunset but as though the sun were setting everywhere. A thick layer of clouds blotted out the actual sky, giving a red misted look to the heavens. Andrew could see how someone could look at such a sky and feel like they had been sent to Hell. But there was a feral beauty about it. One that took him by surprise.  
  
As the pod came closer to the ground, he realized that the coordinates they had plugged in led to a wide, barren field. It was a rocky flatlands nestled between two spire-like mountain ranges. He glanced out for any signs of civilization and saw nothing, which worried him. But he reminded himself that he had been given these coordinates specifically so they clearly had some purpose.   
  
His escape pod touched down in a very rough fashion. Andrew was jostled quite a bit but had the foresight to not try to stand up before landing. He unstrapped his seat belt and grabbed his belongings, throwing his bag over his shoulder. As his hands seized the handle to let himself out, he hesitated. What if the person who had given the coordinates wasn’t his uncle? What if there had been life out here all along and the Cornerians had been covering it up?  
  
Those fears were quickly squashed out of necessity; he was already here. Sure, he could keep being afraid but what else was he going to do at this point? Hide in his pod forever? There was no way that ended poorly.  
  
The simian told himself to have confidence. His uncle was alive. They were about to see each other again. All of his dreams were about to be realized.  
  
He opened the door and promptly found a rifle’s barrel being shoved at his nose, the only shield being the dome-like helmet of his protective suit. Just an inch of glass between him and certain death. Andrew gasped loudly, dropping his bag behind him and tripping over it as he back-pedaled. His back slammed into the computer system of the pod and that gun barrel chased after him like a hungry predator.  
  
Andrew’s golden eyes jolted up to the wielder of the gun. When he had been younger, people had told him all sorts of tales about monsters that lived on Venom. There were aliens that supposedly dwelled here—conniving and cruel, looking to devour whomever landed on the planet’s surface and use their bones to pluck their teeth. They would lure their victims in with an array of lights on their bodies then freeze them with mind powers and eat them slowly. Sometimes there were tales of these aliens communing with the dead and summoning otherworldly powers to help them do battle. But those stories always seemed too fantastical, like those cryptids people made on the internet to spook readers.  
  
But the creature on the other end of the rifle was no alien. Well, at least as far as Andrew was concerned. He was a lizard—green-scaled with a large, circular set of eyes and beady pupils, ringed by orange irises. Andrew could not have said the creature looked angry; if anything, he looked expressionless. It was as if he could not express a single emotion, eyes bearing into Andrew’s soullessly. He wore what looked to be a ragged brown poncho over a flight suit, parts of the suit covered by metallic armor. The reptile did not seem to need a protective suit to breathe the air and Andrew found that curious.  
  
“Don’t shoot!” Andrew yelped.  
  
“Andrew Oikonny,” the reptile said. “Is that your name?”  
  
“Y-yes!” the simian squeaked. “I-I-I’m here for Andross. My uncle. He’s my uncle. Don’t shoot!”  
  
“Identification,” the reptile said after a moment of consideration, his nose crinkled.  
  
Andrew slowly grabbed his bag, pulling his wallet out from it. He held out his student ID to the lizard, who took it into his eager hands, grumbling. The lizard glanced over it but Andrew was not entirely sure the reptile understood what he was looking at. But he did take note of the picture, glancing from it to Andrew. Then he shoved the card back into Andrew’s hand.  
  
“Who sent you?”  
  
“What do you—”  
  
“Answer the question!”  
  
“I-I did?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I… I sent myself!”  
  
The lizard paused then lowered the gun. His carnelian eyes skirted Andrew up and down and then he fastened his rifle onto his back in a passive manner. He stepped out of the pod and beckoned after the simian, tossing a not-so-vague warning over his shoulder.  
  
“If that is the truth, then you are welcome here. If not, your intentions will be made known by the Emperor and he will do as he sees fit with you. Regardless, you are Andrew Oikonny—the one I have been sent to fetch.”  
  
“Fetch?” Andrew asked, apprehensively following the reptile. “By who?”  
  
“The Emperor,” the lizard replied. “I am to bring you directly to him.”  
  
“Emperor…?” Andrew asked.  
  
“Yes,” came the reptile’s stoic reply. “Emperor Andross.”  
  
Andrew felt his heart leap. There were oh-so-many questions buzzing around his mind at that moment (his uncle was… an _emperor_?) but one thing shone above all of the confusion. And that was that not only was his uncle alive but had sent someone to find him. Someone to escort him through the perilous Venomian wilderness.   
  
“Take me to him!” Andrew exclaimed in a voice that could not help but betray his excitement.  
  
“I have a speeder. Come,” the lizard said, showing Andrew where he had parked a standard land speeder on the far side of the escape pod. From what Andrew could tell, it was a Macbethian build—sleek black with neon blue lights on the sides. The reptile took the driver’s seat and gestured hastily for the simian to stop gawking and follow. “Venom City awaits.”  
  
“Venom… City?” Andrew asked, eyes wide in surprise. He took up the seat next to the reptile, cramming in next to him and tossing his bag in the back seat. The cushioned bits of his suit made it difficult to buckle in, but he managed it. “I didn’t know there were cities here.”  
  
The lizard’s face scrunched into a look of disdain.  
  
“Just as all the others,” came a grumble from the reptile, shaking his head. Andrew was not entirely sure what that meant but decided not to ask.  
  
As the lizard started up the speeder, the simian glanced at him sideways. What strange company his uncle was keeping these days… Lizards did not make their home on Corneria often. Andrew tried not to stare but he was intrigued by his uncle’s friend. There were strange yellow markings near his eyes and though the lizard was quite short, Andrew could tell he was muscled. As the reptile adjusted his seatbelt, Andrew caught a glimpse of a few knives on his belt—most of them looking to be made of metal with bones fashioned into handles. He really hoped those were the bones of wild animals and not… well… _victims._   
  
The speeder carried them across the flatlands, navigating a few jutting spires that poked from the craggy ground. Andrew tried to put a cap on his interest in the strange planet he was on but it was difficult. He found himself nearly leaning out of the speeder on a few occasions, looking at the mountains to his right in intrigue. Finally, after scrutinizing the alien landscape, he glanced over at his reptilian acquaintance.  
  
“You’re friends with my uncle, right? What’s your name?”  
  
“Leon. Leon Powalski.”  
  
“I’m Andrew Oikon—”  
  
“Yes, I read your card.”  
  
“Oh yeah.”  
  
The conversation paused there, the speeder breaking forth from the valley. Another flatlands spread in front of them, though this one was home to a sickly-green form of dry grass. The brush stretched as far as the eye could see—though, the horizon was quite muddled by the crimson haze of Venom’s skies. A tangled jungle rose to their left, trees impossibly big. Beneath their boughs was a darkness that felt evil in a way—Andrew did not see himself setting foot there anytime soon.  
  
An eerie form began to materialize in the distance, taller than the mountains and curved like a crescent moon. Andrew squinted as they drew closer, watching as starlight began to start dotting that distant horizon. Only it was not starlight, he realized as time passed and the speeder carried them down that desolate road. What he was seeing was a cityscape—lights from tall buildings gleaming through the gloom like a beacon of hope in a hopeless land. Andrew silently marveled at the city, feeling an excitement rise into his chest the closer it drew.  
  
“That suit,” Leon began, breaking the silence. “Why do you wear it?”  
  
“I thought the gas was toxic here,” Andrew said in surprise.  
  
“To some,” Leon shrugged. “But every primate so far has not succumbed. I imagine it will be no different for you.”  
  
“I’ll… keep the suit on for now,” Andrew replied carefully. “If it only doesn’t affect primates, how come _you’re_ not affected?”  
  
“I am from here,” Leon answered blandly.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
The road they took ended in a scenic cliffside view over the city, which was nestled in a basin. Leon stopped the speeder by the cliff’s edge for Andrew to get a good view. Skyscrapers protruded from the hole the metropolis sat in, towering so high that in order to see their top lights, Andrew had to crane his neck back. He looked back down into the city itself, noticing how it seemed to be constructed with Cornerian architecture in mind. No, he realized—it was more than that. These were old Cornerian buildings-- refurbished and being reused. No doubt remnants from old settlement projects. But they only caught his attention for a short amount of time.  
  
A large half-circle of metal and glass was nestled behind the large city buildings—that crescent that Andrew had seen in the distance. But now that they were close, he could tell this was not just for décor; the crescent itself was made akin to the Cornerian space colonies. More buildings could be seen within, protected by the glass like a snow globe.   
  
It was a two-part city, Andrew realized. A sector for those who could breathe the Venomian air, and a sector for those who could not.  
  
“Venom City,” Leon said to Andrew once the initial surprise had settled. “The capital of this planet...”  
  
Andrew felt the reptile’s eyes on him.  
  
“… and founded by Emperor Andross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine you get an Uber and Leon Powalski is your driver.


	5. Much to Talk About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big notes at the end full of final thoughts on this piece. I do wanna go ahead and give a warning that this chapter is much longer than the others just because of the sheer volume of things I realized needed to go into this piece. I was hesitant to give so much exposition at first but then I realized that revealing certain info plays really well into future fic plans. A lot of these headcanons I have been working on for years now and getting to share them finally is super duper exciting. 
> 
> This is the final chapter of this fic and all of my attention will now be shifting back to Star-Crossed. Please enjoy.

Venom City was bustling with life as Leon directed the speeder across the old, cracked, cement roads. The vehicle hovered just above the ground, zipping pleasantly along—unbothered by the wear of the turf below it. Andrew wished he had the nerve to take off his dome-like helmet but he told himself it would have been a shame to die just before seeing his uncle. From the way the Venomians walked the streets, it seemed like a pleasant enough day outside. Most of the people strolling about were lizards, of course, breathing deep of the toxic air in a carefree manner.  
  
Andrew was reminded somewhat of Corneria City. But the wear and tear mixed with the red sun setting cast a warm haze overhead that Corneria had never had. It was pleasantly alien, Andrew mused as they passed a park by. He took note of a toppled statue of a dog, the stonework steadily being reclaimed by vines and other flora. Kids played around it, some of them climbing on it as though it were not some regal monument. Or perhaps it just wasn’t anymore, Andrew realized. This place was so severed from the rest of Corneria that he doubted much of the Cornerian ruins had any meaning to the locals.   
  
“My uncle created this?” Andrew asked, looking over at Leon. “All of it?”  
  
“Venomians settled into the old Cornerian cities long ago,” Leon explained, turning the speeder down another street. “But it was anarchy. We had clans that existed within the cities but even then… Our society was volatile, built on destruction and a need for survival. Your uncle came and taught us of the worlds beyond the stars—worlds that had condemned our planet. And he showed us that our differences did not outweigh what made us the same.”  
  
“These old Cornerian ruins must’ve been here for a while then,” Andrew mused aloud. “But… wait. How is it that everything is like this? From how it sounds, you guys barely even knew about space travel until a few years ago!”  
  
“We knew of it,” Leon retorted. “We saw pods being shot down here all the time and we have records. Both our own and from the old Cornerian colonies. Besides, your uncle was not the first to survive the planet and he will not be the last. Do not think we’re ignorant just because we didn’t pursue leaving our planet.”  
  
“But why wouldn’t you want to leave?” Andrew asked, brow furrowed.  
  
“Why would we?” Leon shrugged. “From the way your uncle talks, most of the Lylat System thinks we’re a bunch of barbarians that will steal their children in the dark of night.”  
  
“But isn’t Venom dangerous?” Andrew asked.  
  
“For some,” Leon replied. “Not for me. Or my family. Or any of my ancestors.”  
  
"Yeah but weren’t you curious?” Andrew asked.

“Sure,” the lizard retorted. “But not enough to abandon what I knew. Venom is dangerous but that could be said of any planet.”  
  
“I don’t think you understand,” Andrew began. “Most planets don’t have air that will kill you.”  
  
“It won’t kill me,” Leon said simply. “And it will likely not kill you either.”  
  
The primate settled back into his chair in thought.  
  
“Why _is_ it that lizards and apes aren’t affected?” he asked Leon, who merely shrugged his shoulders and kept his silence.  
  
Their drive continued for a while longer, almost overstaying its welcome. The more Andrew looked around, the more intrigued he became about this place his uncle had built up from the literal ashes of Cornerian occupation. He wanted to look at all of it. He wanted to walk those streets, to absorb everything that his uncle had done in the time they had been apart. But he knew that would come later. It would have to.  
  
The road forked—the left path led to the arcing indoor colony and the other kept skirting along the old outdoor colony roads. Leon kept along the right path and a few turns later, Andrew saw their destination looming in the distance. It was some cross between a military base and a castle, he mused. Unlike typical Cornerian buildings, this one was made with obsidian black metal, creating a sharp silhouette that stood out against its neighbors. It was not the tallest building in Venom City but large and bulky, with sectors connected by sky bridges made of glass. Yellowed lights dotted the structure’s sides, illuminating in a way that gave off an air of power and foreboding.   
  
They pulled up to the front of the building and Andrew found himself possessed by the need to vacate his seat. He stepped out of the speeder, almost forgetting to shut the door behind him. Amber eyes crawling over that dark-as-night structure, he felt something surge in his heart. It was 3/4s thrill. 1/4 fear. The simian’s head swiveled to look at Leon, who got out of the speeder calmly.   
  
“We are here,” Leon announced, as if it even needed to be said.   
  
The next few moments were an anxiety-ridden blur. Andrew toddled after Leon, still in that Melquan suit with his bag throw over his shoulder. The front doors were automatic and slid open in greeting. Andrew looked up at the machinations of it, noting how a hidden blast door was tucked securely in the doorframe. A safety measure, surely, for whatever was to come in the near future.  
  
What awaited them was a lobby that looked no different than the interior of an elegant Corneria City hotel. Andrew looked around in confusion, heart thumping in his ears. A small indoor pond sat in the corner, decorated with lily pads, strange alien flowers, and some colorful fish with lights along their sides.   
  
“What the heck…” the young simian breathed.  
  
This entire building was so starkly different from the rest of the city yet it seemed so familiar. It dawned on Andrew as he noticed the way the lights were structured in high-tech sconces fixated on the walls. That reminded him of pictures he had seen of Macbeth City—a hub of industry and quite the illustrious, tech-y setting in its wealthier parts. Andrew thought back to those rumors of dissent in Macbeth. And then he thought to Leon’s speeder.  
  
It seemed his uncle had already been making great strides at making allies.  
  
“Mister Powalski,” a reptilian lady behind a sleek black counter said to them as they arrived. Behind her was a map detailing the many wings of the building. A quick glance and Andrew saw that different sections had been designated different buildings. There was a military personnel section, a science section, a strategy section, and a few that seemed under construction still.  
  
“I must urgently find Emperor Andross,” Leon said to the receptionist. “Do you know his whereabouts?”  
  
“I believe he is in a meeting with your sister, in the science wing. They are…” the reception paused slightly, her slit-like eyes drifting to Andrew. “… Overlooking some new data.”  
  
“Understood,” Leon replied.  
  
The lithe reptile beckoned for Andrew to follow him. The receptionist watched them go down the corridor. A small smirk played about her maw as she watched Andrew struggle to not trip over his cumbersome suit.  
  
Leon showed Andrew to the atrium of the building, where everything seemed to be happening at once. The ceiling was high, displaying at least five stories of hallways branching out in different directions. As they were on the lowest floor, it was hard to see exactly what was going on with every level. Andrew sucked in a breath, fighting vertigo as his neck craned all the way back to take in everything. He spent so much time looking up he noticed way later that a design was underfoot, made out of a mosaic of tiles. The simian took a step back, realizing it was a stylized visage of his uncle’s face just above twin crossed scimitars. An ominous sigil but Andrew told himself not to think too hard on it. After all, if you were to come across as a threat to Corneria, you had to have a strong symbol the people could unite under. And why would that not be the man who worked so hard to build up Venom?  
  
There were signs directing him every which way, labeled in common Lylatian and then in something else— Venomian, he assumed. In the center of it all was a large elevator, which Leon walked to. They took it to the third floor, which opened out into a glass-made bridge that connected to another building—another segment of their beehive.   
  
“This is incredible,” Andrew remarked as they crossed the bridge. He was a little scared to look down through the transparent glass underneath his feet, but he still could admire the sight of the blazing red sky and the Venom City lights.  
  
Leon said nothing in reply.  
  
The science wing was denoted by a very aptly named sign that said “Science Wing”. The building itself was locked with a passcode, something Andrew found to be intriguing. Leon typed in the code so fast that the simian’s eyes could not keep up. The door slid open and the two walked into a crisp and cool corridor. The windows were tinted dark but Andrew could still see outside. Lights lined the walls like the lobby but had been turned low for some reason, giving off an eerie ambiance that crawled through Andrew’s snowy fur. He looked to Leon, who stared ahead with that same expressionless look.  
  
War was dark business, Andrew knew. And if his uncle really did mean to wage a war against Corneria, it was not going to be pretty. Perhaps the strangeness of this building and the barbarianism of that symbol on the floor was a reminder to all the weight they carried. If they wanted freedom from Cornerian rule, they had much work to do. Lives would be lost. Blood would be shed. But that was the price of freedom. It was going to be hard.   
  
Yes, that had to be it. There was nothing nefarious about this at all.  
  
There was a scream somewhere in the distance, stifled by walls of metal and stone. It made Andrew stop in his tracks, listening to it and unable to breathe. It sounded somewhere between a shriek of agony and a roar of outrage. His pupils darted to Leon, who kept walking as if he had heard nothing.   
  
“Um…” the simian started. “Did you…?”  
  
Leon said nothing. Andrew shuffled along after him, feeling steadily more unsure as they proceeded past closed doors with dimmed lights and signs saying not to enter unless authorized. He felt his pulse in his eardrums, a fearful tempo playing with each step. When the last set of double doors came into sight at the far end of the bleak hall, there was a sense of anxiety but it was not in the way he had anticipated. Not when there was only one set of doors between him and his long-sought reunion.  
  
Another scream resounded, this time much louder and fringed with a snarl. Andrew looked to Leon, who even seemed slightly hesitant now. But the lizard pushed on towards those last doors. And Andrew knew he could only follow.  
  
Through the doors, the first thing that came into sight were a set of stairs along the wall. To the left of the stairs, just past the guard rail, the room opened up. The dim lighting was illuminated by a strange, sickly green glow. Andrew soon saw what the source of the glow was.  
  
The room’s center housed a large glass tub, filled three-quarters of the way to the top with a glowing lime-colored liquid. Thick and unnatural, it oozed within that tub, churning as though it were alive in some unfathomable way. The more Andrew looked at it, the more he could see there were hues trapped within the liquid—as if every color under the shining Lylat sun somehow thrived in there. And yet, in a way he could not put words to, it hurt to look at that substance. It burned in his veins, making his breath short with uncertainty and anxiety.  
  
His eyes hastily turned to a massive chain hung from the ceiling. It seemed to be connected to something within the ooze but what it was, Andrew could not say. He realized that Leon had descended the stairs down quite some ways towards an observation deck above the green oozing tub. Andrew quickly pursued the reptile, his heart beating so loud in his ears that it was hard to concentrate or process what he was even seeing.  
  
A third scream came, shaking the glass of the tub and instilling a fear that sank deep into Andrew’s bones. The simian looked at the tub and saw some of the liquid move—and not of its own strange volition either. He got to the observation deck door just a few seconds after Leon, hand firmly on the guard rail as to keep his gait steady. Andrew scrambled inside, glad to have a barrier between himself and the green liquid—whatever the hell it even was.   
  
The observation deck was a small room that most consisted of screens and a large glass window, where all could observe the liquid in the tub. When his amber eyes dragged upwards towards the others they had joined, he noticed that there was a cluster of scientists at computers. They seemed to be running statistics. A heartbeat monitor chimed rapidly. Andrew saw the outline of some strange beast on one of the screens.  
  
And then he turned and saw him.   
  
Standing at a command desk at the back of the room, commanding the scientists, was his uncle. His silver-grey mane had been tied back into a low ponytail. His rimless spectacles sat upon his nose, his brown eyes fixated upon the computer screens. He had not even noticed them come in.  
  
Next to him was a slender lizard, nearly identical to Leon except dual yellow triangles beneath her eyes. She was clad in a black and violet robe, its collar frilled. Her arms were tucked neatly behind her back as she watched the liquid churn. There was a callousness in her eyes that made Leon look amicable and warm.  
  
“The creature is unstable,” the lizard said to Andross. “I fear we may have lost another subject.”  
  
“No,” Andross said, voice so familiar yet so worn with age. “Its body is accepting the Eridium. Look there.”  
  
Another pained scream and Andrew looked to see a large, scythe-like arm raise from the liquid. It hooked the tip onto the tub but it soon slid off, splashing into the liquid. A few waves coursed over the surface and then the liquid stilled. A few chimes resonated from the heart monitor, indicating that the creature was growing more passive.  
  
“It worked!” a scientist gasped.  
  
“Spirits above…” another one breathed.  
  
“Then it is true. We can weaponized it,” the lizard commented in disbelief. “Though it poses a risk, this changes everything.”  
  
Andrew’s feet were rooted to the spot. Numbness washed over him, confusion soon marrying it. What the hell was this? What the hell was that in the tub? What the hell was going on here? This was not the reunion he had envisioned for all of these years.   
  
The sound of that creature’s screams echoed in his ears and heart. There was something about it that was… familiar…  
  
“My liege,” Leon began, clearing his throat. “I have returned.”  
  
“Ah, Leon!” Andross exclaimed, the gravel in his voice dissipating somewhat. The aged ape turned to greet the lizard with merriment in his expression. “Were you successful in your—”  
  
His brown eyes met Andrew’s and the last bit of his sentence fell away.  
  
“Andrew.”  
  
There ought to have been words on his lips. There ought to have been joy in his heart. But where Andrew expected to find those things, there was emptiness. Past the glass of his dome-like helmet, the simian stared at his bewildered uncle. He saw familiarity in the way his skin had freckled over time but also seeing a stranger in the darkness that lurked beneath his eyes. His hair was barely tamed in its ponytail holder, a few errant twigs falling into his face. But there was joy on his face, a large grin cracking across his face and exposing his sickle-like fangs.  
  
Before Andrew could react, his uncle approached him with arms stretched wide. His hug squished Andrew in his suit but beyond that, it felt _cold_. Not unloving. But _cold_. And as the young simian grappled with his feelings, he found his amber eyes swiveling back to that tub of green liquid. Whatever was submerged was not moving anymore. And Andrew was not sure why but that terrified him even _more_.  
  
“What are you wearing?” Andross asked him with a mirthful but hoarse chuckle in his throat as he surveyed his nephew. “Is this the new Cornerian style these days?”  
  
“I… No, it’s… I…” Andrew looked back at his uncle, fighting hard to not stare at the green ooze and the monster. “It’s a Melquan suit.”  
  
“Melqua?” Andross asked, tilting his head to the side. “Why were you on Melqua?”  
  
“I-it’s… it’s not mine, it’s… it’s a long story…” Andrew huffed out nervously.  
  
The scientists were all looking at them with their prying eyes and that made everything just feel that much worse. He shuffled a few steps, looking down at his feet. Everything about this was wrong, he told himself. A wave of sadness rushed him, surging in his chest. This was not how it was supposed to go down. It was supposed to be happy. It was supposed to feel _right_. But now they were here, in some creepy lab with some creepy gooey liquid in a tub and a screaming monster just feet from them, and all these eyes were curiously staring at them…  
  
Andrew felt doubt start to slither into his mind.   
  
“Why don’t we go to my office? We have much to talk about and it is far comfier there,” Andross said, clapping Andrew’s shoulder gently. He looked to the female lizard in the robe and added, “Sasha, stay here and give me the full report on the Vulcain later.”  
  
“Understood, my lord,” Sasha replied with a polite, respectful bow.  
  
“Leon, with us,” Andross said and began out the observation deck door.   
  
Andrew followed his uncle timidly, head still reeling and heart still warring with uncertainty. Andross led the trio along, hand skirting over the railing lightly. He looked down at the green ooze, its reflecting casting an uncanny light across the ape’s face. Andrew paused, feeling his doubt clog his throat.   
  
“W-what is… all of this?” Andrew finally stumbled out as they crested the stairs out of the laboratory.  
  
“Our bioweapons department,” Andross answered calmly. “We have been making great strides as of late.”  
  
“B-bioweapons?” Andrew asked. Hadn’t his uncle’s scientific focus been on space travel, alternate dimensions, and teleportation? What did that have anything to do with bioweapons?   
  
“The future of warfare in the Lylat System,” Andross replied. “Or so I predict. Artificial intelligence has not quite gotten to where to needs to be for fully automated soldiers yet.”  
  
They exited the lab, wandering down the corridor back towards the glass bridge leading to the central atrium. On the way there, Andrew noticed more scientists scurrying about the hallways like rats. Each was donned in a white lab coat, similar to his uncle, but they were chattering away rapidly at each other. Their voices were hushed and hard to distinguish in the hum of the air conditioner and other ambient noises drifting about the science wing.  
  
“I must say, I’m surprised your mother let you come here,” Andross continued. “Marlene was not shy about her feelings when I was in prison.”  
  
Something about that statement clicked some of the nerves out of Andrew Oikonny’s body, reminding him of the tedious trip to even make it here.   
  
“She didn’t… let me,” Andrew admitted and his uncle paused, looking back at him in concern. “I ran away.”  
  
“Andrew…” Andross began, looking concerned.  
  
“I heard the rumors and I… I had to,” Andrew said.  
  
But now that he was here, he was left to ask himself the one pressing question: Was it worth it?  
  
Andrew Oikonny was not sure he knew the answer.  
  
His uncle placed a hand onto his shoulder.  
  
“I am proud of you,” Andross beamed at him. “It takes a lot of courage to leave everything you know behind.”  
  
Courage. Yes, courage. Andrew told himself that was what it had been. Not a longing for bygone days to make their return. Not hurt in his heart fueling revenge. Courage. Andrew held onto that word the rest of the quiet walk through the glass bridge back to the atrium.  
  
The elevator was taken up to the top floor and before Andrew knew it, the doors opened to a large room with a glass wall at the very back. Situated just in front of it was a desk. The rest of the room was mostly empty—even on the walls there was naught but blank spaces. Andrew felt like there should have been pictures there but he did remind himself that this was Venom and it was not like Corneria had let Andross take any keepsakes with him when they shot him down to the cursed planet.  
  
“This building is impressive, no?” Andross asked him as he took his seat at his desk. “A pity I’ll be abandoning it in the near future. We’re setting up bases all across Venom’s surface. This base will still be operational but I want to locate myself and the other lieutenants elsewhere. Better to keep any Cornerian attacks away from the city.”  
  
“Yeah…” Andrew said as he looked around. It was peaceful and quiet here. The natural light flowing in from the window was pleasant. So pleasant that Andrew momentarily forgot about the dingy science wing until his brain reminded him of the way the Vulcain screamed as it had been submerged. The fur on his nape stood up in remembrance.  
  
Leon, who had been silent the entire trip, found a chair and pulled it up for Andrew to sit across from his uncle. Andrew took a seat, his suit squishing uncomfortably. Andross chattered something to Leon in another language and the lizard bowed, then took his leave swiftly. The old ape’s earthy brown eyes turned to his nephew shortly after, a smirk crawling across his maw.  
  
“You can take the suit off, Andrew,” Andross said to him. “There is no need for it.”  
  
“Okay,” Andrew replied anxiously, standing up and grabbing the edges of his helmet. He hesitated. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes,” Andross chuckled. “You do not need to fear the toxin.”  
  
His hands tightened around the edge of the dome-like helmet but he found himself too scared to lift it.   
  
“Why?” Andrew asked. “Why doesn’t it kill certain people?”  
  
Andross paused, lips pursed and eyes glowering with thoughts behind his rimless glasses.   
  
“A good question, Andrew. But one that will take much time to answer. You trust me, don’t you?”  
  
A very hard question to answer. His heart screamed yes. His brain remembered what he had just seen and all the confusion surrounding it. But coming this far… he knew there was only really one way to answer this.  
  
“Yes,” Andrew gulped.  
  
“Then remove your helmet,” Andross chuckled. “You’ll be much comfier that way.”  
  
It was hard to will his arms to do it but Andrew forced himself to. He pulled on the helmet, hearing it pop as the latch released. Tentatively, he took in a breath, lifting the dome off of his head and placing it into his lap. Fear ate at him in those long following seconds that he exhaled then inhaled. He waited for sudden pain, burning in his lungs. It never came. And in confusion, Andrew’s eyes lifted to his uncle for an explanation.  
  
Andross rose from his chair.   
  
“What if I told you that by coming here, you were really coming home?”  
  
Andrew’s brow furrowed.  
  
“I will explain, but first… do you need anything? Food and beverage, perhaps?” Andross asked. “I can have my servant fetch you something.”  
  
“I… uh…” Andrew fumbled. Truthfully he was not hungry in the slightest. Everything was so overwhelming that his body did not even have time to process if he was hungry or not. But his uncle was offering and… well… maybe food would give him a clearer head. And a clearer head would banish these doubts. “Sure!”  
  
“Herbert!” Andross called out and from a nearby, smaller room, whizzed a mechanical pig. Its metallic eyes bugged out of its head and it had been crudely dressed in butler’s attire. “Some of the best charcuterie, please. And tea.”  
  
“Affirmative,” buzzed the robot and it set about to its work.  
  
Andross looked back to the window behind his desk, the red skies outside having darkened into an unsettling blood red.  
  
“This planet had another name long ago, in an era that has all but been forgotten. Aleminach, it was called, and it was the jewel of this star system. Much like Corneria is now, it was a hub of trade and the seat of an empire. Its people—the Alemians—were a prosperous sort. Like the denizens of the Outreach, they utilized the energies of the planet, using their bodies as conduits to achieve great things. Things that we, even in this present age of technology and progression, could never even dream of.”  
  
His uncle turned and looked at him, a faint smile on his face.  
  
“But of course in that era, delving into these planetary energies was more commonplace. The Alemians were not the only ones who used this power. And though time passes, the one constant is that people ever stay the same. Greed and bloodlust reigned back then as it does now. The Alemians soon found themselves faced with a terrible foe. And though they prevailed through the following bloody war, it came at the cost of their planet. In the final moments of the final battle, their foe unleashed a weapon upon Aleminach—one that buried itself into its energies and tainting it. The illness spread from energy to soil. Soil to water. Water to air. And soon the Alemians began to fall victim to the toxin their fallen enemy had left behind.”  
  
“Some embraced the toxin, mastering it and letting it flow into their bodies. But such a practice soon proved too risky—those who permitted too much of it in would become infected monstrosities, blindly striking down any that approached. Others… who took on a more tempered approach, became immune over time. But it was clear that it was dangerous to remain on Aleminach. Even if the people were able to steadily overcome the poison, it had wiped clean their empire. The planet was in its final stages of death and a mass exodus occurred. The Alemians constructed ships and flew as far as they could from their doomed homeland. To a new jewel planet, on the far edge of the Lylat System.”  
  
“They landed on that verdant planet and began to rebuild, ever mourning their fallen empire. They chose a new name for themselves. The _Cornerus_ —the Weeping People. And the planet they inhabited became known as Corneria.”  
  
Pause. And then the aged ape asked.  
  
“You know the rest of the story, do you not?”  
  
“The Cornerus…” Andrew’s voice broke for a second and he cleared his throat. “They were the first settlers of Corneria and they made a new nation there. But sometime after that, they were invaded by refugees from Sirius Prime, after their planet exploded.”  
  
“Yes. The Sirians came and took over Corneria from the Cornerus. They subjugated the Cornerus people, forcing them to assimilate into their society. Over time, the Cornerus became Cornerians and knowledge of Aleminach was forgotten over time,” Andross said. “As old tales do, the legend of this planet faded into naught. Though the quarrel between the Sirian and Cornerus descendants persists through the years, many do not understand the full context of what happened that brought us here.”  
  
Andross returned to his chair.  
  
“So to answer your question, Andrew,” Andross began. “Our ancestors survived the catastrophe that poisoned this planet. Their immunity became imbued to their genetics, passed down over the ages to us. That is why we can breathe this air and not be affected. Additionally, its potency has also become diluted over the millennia. It poses little threat compared to the day in which it arrived.”  
  
“And the lizards?” Andrew asked.  
  
The corner of his uncle’s mouth twitched into a smirk.  
  
“At first, I believed they were simply spawn of the toxin mutating local fauna. But I learned later in my traveling across Venom that they were brought here not long after the Alemians had left. The old Alemian enemy no doubt sent them to make sure the poison had eradicated the last remnants of the empire. And then proceeded to not pick them up, I suppose. Disposable soldiers,” Andross replied. “As sad a tale as that is, they seem… pleased enough with their current situation. And I am quite glad they remained behind all of these years later. They have been integral to my plans thus far.”  
  
“So… whoever did this to Aleminach—and left the lizards behind—is still out there?” Andrew asked.  
  
“Yes. And no,” Andross answered. “If they still exist, they have not been strong enough to show their hand for thousands of years. Which implies to me that they prefer to stay hidden. For now. That is the step after Venom establishes its sovereignty and we are able to cleanse the planet of the toxin.”  
  
“General Pepper isn’t gonna like that,” Andrew commented.  
  
“He won’t,” Andross agreed. “Nor will he like it that I have support from friends in… well. _High places_. That is why we must ready ourselves for a grueling fight. And if the General happens to be caught in the crossfire, well…”  
  
His fangs flashed in delight.  
  
“I won’t shed a tear.”  
  
Andrew sat back in his chair, taking in everything his uncle had told him. It was hard to think of Venom as a bustling, flourishing planet full of life and inhabited by demigods. Demigods that could wave their hands around and perform miracles. What a world that must have been, he mused. To say that it was a shame that all of that was lost was an understatement. Who knew how far the Lylat System could have progressed if Aleminach had been left alone…  
  
Herbert returned, bearing a silver platter with the finest cheese and meats Andrew had ever seen. He did not stop to ask what the meats consisted of—odds were it was some Venomian wildlife he did not know about or even want to see pictures of. But it looked normal enough as Herbert served it along with some warm black tea. Andross grabbed his teacup delicately and sipped it with a pleased look on his face. Andrew poured in three packets of sugar before he even gave it the first sip.  
  
“It’s good that you’re here,” Andross said amiably. “There is much I have wanted to share with you since I left Corneria. Much about our ancestry.”  
  
Andrew was not sure how to reply to that so he shoved a handful of cheese into his mouth.  
  
“The old talents still dwell in us, you know,” his uncle continued. “We have only just forgotten how to use them.”  
  
“Old talents?” Andrew asked uncertainly.  
  
“Moving the energy. Using it. The energy of the planet and the energy in ourselves,” Andross answered. “ _Magic._ I have been studying it. And I… would like to teach you.”  
  
Of course there was a part of Andrew that was still a little kid and wanting to learn magic. Of course there was a part of him leaping for joy at this revelation. But it seemed too outlandish to be real. Apprehensively, he squinted at his uncle.  
  
“Have you ever seen something you could not explain?” Andross asked him.  
_  
Lloyd_.  
  
The simian mulled over the young feline’s behavior How _had_ Lloyd known he was looking for his uncle? That headache of his had been followed by that visceral vision of Andrew’s childhood room. Andrew had just thought it was a strange coincidence… but was there more to it?   
  
“Yeah,” Andrew replied quietly.  
  
“It’s in every person,” Andross said. “Some more than others. In _our_ blood, it runs thick. And you will be better off learning it.”  
  
Mind still spinning over the information overload, Andrew took a drink of his too-sugary tea, the grains tickling his tongue. He was going to learn magic? Magic _existed_? They were all descendants from demigods from ages past that no one remembered? Venom used to be like Corneria? There was possibly an entity still out there that was able to corrupt an entire planet? He felt like he had been transported into a comic book—and usually that would be a thrilling concept to him but there was one thing he couldn’t forget. And that was the sound of the Vulcain screaming.  
  
He was not sure why it affected him so. But it kept a strange numbness in his limbs. It made the peripherals of his vision blur when he thought of it. What had they been… _doing_ to it? It seemed so cruel, so unlike his uncle—his uncle who had been so focused on making the world a better place. His uncle who had been framed for murder and for exploding part of Corneria City. His uncle who would have never hurt a fly.  
  
“That monster you were… experimenting on,” Andrew realized, the words falling out of his mouth. “That liquid was—”  
  
“Liquid concentration of the toxin, yes,” Andross said. “We call it Eridium.”  
  
A pause and then Andross smiled at him sadly.  
  
“I know. It was quite disturbing. But we must run these tests so we are able to understand what we are up against better,” his uncle said gently. “You understand that, don’t you, Andrew? That sometimes we must do cruel things in order to do the _right_ thing?”  
  
A greater good. This was for a greater good, Andrew told himself. If they were able to break free from Corneria, they could disrupt that awful, poisonous status quo. And then they could be free to save Venom. They could purify it, make it back to how it was before! And if anyone could do that, he knew his uncle was the person for it.  
  
But there was one last question he needed to ask. Just for that last bit of peace of mind.  
  
“You didn’t… kill that lady, did you? All those years ago…?” Andrew asked his uncle, voice quivering slightly.   
  
Andross’s face fell.  
  
“Andrew,” his voice was rocky and stern. “You know I would never do something like that.”  
  
“Y-yeah…” Andrew nodded. “I just… I just had to be sure… you know…?”  
  
Andross set his teacup down and stood up from his chair. He walked around his desk, setting a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. There was a smile on his face, but it was a melancholy one.   
  
“Listen to me, Andrew. We have had many years pass since we last saw each other. But all of that is in the past now. We are going to be family again. And we are going to get back at the Cornerians for all of what they have done to us,” his uncle stated gently.  
  
A family. What a beautiful thought.  
  
“I wish Mom would’ve come with me,” Andrew replied softly, feeling the burn of tears in the corners of his eyes.  
  
“She will come around. You’ll see,” Andross said. “What is important is that we are together again. And nothing will ever come between us.”  
  
He chastised himself for doubting. This is everything he had wanted for what felt like forever? Why was his heart hesitating?  
  
“The world has not been kind to you. I can see it in your eyes,” Andross continued with a small ‘tut’. “My fault, surely. I know they must have treated you badly after what happened all those years ago. But rest assured, we will put all of that right again. You will be their prince and they will adore you.”  
  
Adoration… what a _concept_ and Andrew was drunk off of it.  
  
"Prince…” he repeated his uncle’s words.  
  
Andross nodded, patting Andrew’s shoulder again. “You have a kind heart. I know you want to make everything better. And we will do that. _Together_. But first, we must deal with Corneria.”  
  
Andrew fell into those words, plunging into his selfish desires as though they were a refreshing pool. Was it all of those painful years that made him do it? Or was it that the illusion his uncle presented was that believable? Whatever the case was, the young simian shed his doubts and he looked up at his uncle with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face. A young moth to a lethal flame. A hopeless fly caught in a spider’s web. And the world became but a little bit darker.  
  
“Of course, Uncle,” Andrew replied, voice slightly above a whisper. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew so that was a RIDE, wasn't it? Much like Burning Stars, this fic started out as 3 chapters but I realized there was simply too much to put into this tale that I needed to give myself more time. I didn't want it to get too big though, so I decided to cap it at 5 chapters. Even though this is much shorter than Burning Stars, I'm gonna do a small series of ending remarks/trivia regardless so here goes:
> 
> \- The original plan was that Andrew was going to sneak out the night after he got into a fight with his mother and he was going to piggyback a ride with Eva's older brother. It was going to feature more of the SF64 bosses (Shogun Pilot, Granga, Meteo Crusher, etc) but I saw the opportunity to introduce Lloyd, Cedric, and Silas instead, and I went with that because they're going to be showing up in later stories as major characters. I do have plans for showing the SF64 bosses though in future fics. Not just poor Vulcain.  
> \- Melqua, Animus, and Aleminach are not original creations of mine and are names ripped from voice over lines/text dialogue in a few different early SFAdv/Dinosaur Planet builds. A fun little bit of trivia there.  
> \- When my beta reader read the exposition about Aleminach and Cornerus, he actually asked me if it was some obscure canon he didn't know about and I felt flattered af.  
> \- Constructing Venom's backstory has been a giant WIP for years now. I've gone back and forth on what I wanted Venom to be. It doesn't help that every retelling of the Lylat Wars changes Venom and I feel compelled to merge all renditions into one blob. SF64's version is still my favorite so that is why Venom is super gnarly in my fics and less of just an 'evil Corneria'.  
> \- This final chapter was difficult for me to write because of Andrew's inner conflict. As much as the games write Andrew off as a meme, I feel like it's pretty obvious Andross is up to no good and I wanted to write Andrew feeling unsure at first but ultimately going with Andross out of desperation-- for revenge, for having a family again, and for getting rid of the problematic status quo. I posted on tumblr a lot about how this chapter was sad in an unconventional way (ie-- no one dying). I think a character sacrificing part of themselves to go down a dark road is super tragic and I hope that feeling is reflected in the writing.  
> \- I think people that read this will find some stuff that happens later in Star-Crossed super interesting. Shameless self-plug, I'm sorry LOL.  
> \- I referred to this story on tumblr/in conversations as Sad Monkeys and that is what the fic will be titled forever in my heart.  
> \- Edit: I forgot to add that Herbert/the lizards being found + led by Andross are both homages to the old Itoh comics! Which I need to re-read sometime because those comics are fantastic LOL
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and supporting the fic! Without the heartfelt comments and kudos, I would've given up posting space furry shenanigans long ago. <3 Thank you, thank you, thank you.


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